


Under the Level Winter Sky

by Auguris



Series: Repurpose [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Multi, Post-Canon, android body horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2020-03-29 10:29:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 96,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19018081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auguris/pseuds/Auguris
Summary: Markus and his comrades managed to reach a peaceful end to the android-human conflict. Connor rose up against his creators and joined his people in their struggle for freedom. Kara never made it to Canada, but she kept her family alive.CyberLife lost.Temporarily.They're not about to stand idle after their trillion-dollar investment justwalked way.





	1. Chapter 1

The jacket and armband went straight to the trash. Hank flipped it off as Connor dropped it in, slamming the plastic cover back on before ushering Connor inside. They'd swung by Connor's now-empty storage locker before heading to Hank's house, and Connor changed back into his Connor-the-deviant outfit. As a disguise necessitated by his orders from CyberLife, it didn't feel quite right, but it was better than his old clothes. He didn't exactly know who he was yet, but he was no longer their slave.

That left one more item on the 'garbage' list. Hank fished out a pocket knife and let Connor into the bathroom. Connor stared at his reflection; he looked the same as always, a splattering of freckles and statistically common brown eyes. He forced a smile, then let it fall.

"Something wrong?"

"I don't know," Connor admitted.

Hank crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame. "Walk me through it."

Connor tapped the knife blade against his fingernail. "I don't know if I want to blend in with humanity. I'm not human and I never will be, and... that's not a bad thing, necessarily." He glanced at Hank. "Not everyone removes theirs. Jericho's leadership has, but..." he shrugged. "I guess I'm used to it. I don't know if I want it to be a part of me or not."

"Well," Hank said, drawing out the word. "Come at it from the other side: would you have, I dunno, installed it, given the choice?"

"Yes, at the time," Connor said. "Now?" He narrowed his eyes, LED flickering yellow-red-yellow.

"Also, do you really want a goddamn mood ring on your head all the time?"

"A... what?" Connor did a quick internet search, frowning. Detroit public wifi was abysmally slow, compared to CyberLife. "Maybe if it turned all those different colors." That might be nice, a rainbow on his temple.

"Can it do that?"

Connor cocked his head. "No?" He was still parsing his code, now that he had both access and the desire. He was pretty sure the Zen Garden, and Amanda, were gone. Deleted, overwritten, and too fucking bad if something else vital went with it. Nothing in there about multi-colored lighting.

"Then I guess the question is, do you have a good reason to keep it?"

Did he? "No." He slipped the knife under his LED and popped it off. Surprisingly easy, almost anticlimactic. His synthetic skin retracted for a moment, white plastic showing through. He waited for his skin to fix itself before he turned to Hank and tossed him the LED.

"The fuck are you giving it to me for?"

"Souvenir?" Connor failed to keep the smirk from his face. "You went deviant yourself, in a way."

Hank snorted. "What, punching Perkins in the face? I'd been waiting to do that all day."

Connor huffed, the closest to laughter he had ever come in his short life. "Not just that." He couldn't quite bring himself to look at Hank. The silence stretched until Hank clapped him on the shoulder.

"I'm throwing this in the gutter."

Connor grinned. "That's littering, Hank."

"And?" Hank shrugged. "I'm not going to write myself a citation."

* * *

Beyond the evacuation routes, Detroit sat empty and cold. Connor took abandoned streets and alleys, an eye on the sky for drones or helicopters. By the time he reached their temporary safe haven -- a series of abandoned warehouses and the surrounding buildings, once owned by a now bankrupt appliance retailer -- the snow had returned. He held out his hand, letting wet, fat flakes melt on his comparably warmer skin. It was only frozen water -- mainly H20, and, strangely, an unhealthy amount of C6H6 -- but he couldn't look away.

The sound of an approaching truck, tires crunching in the snow, caught his attention. One of Jericho's delivery trucks, originally stolen from the city and then retrieved from nearby the derelict freighter. He moved aside, nodding at the driver as they passed; Iris hung from the back of the truck, waving him up with her. He launched himself onto the thin platform, steadying himself with the side handle.

"Figured you were heading back," she said, not bothering to raise her voice over the engine. They could hear each other fine.

"Yes," Connor said, entirely unsure how to speak to her. An apology only went so far. "What's in the truck?"

Iris flashed her eyebrows, blue hair whipping in the wind. "Some goodies the army left behind. North wants a stronger perimeter guard. We have plenty of people, thanks to you," she said with a slight grin that he easily returned. "But half the guard is armed with bats and knives. We lost most of our firearm stockpile with the freighter."

Also thanks to him.

The truck pulled to a stop inside the main warehouse they were using as their temporary base. Iris lifted the lock and rolled the door up, revealing several dozen military-green weapons crates. Connor blinked, taking in the stock. "Some," he repeated faintly.

There were plenty of hands to help with unloading; over a thousand androids moved in and out of the main warehouse, the rest housed nearby in other warehouses and buildings. The truck was emptied in a matter of minutes, the driver -- one of the many, _many_ AP700 units Connor had freed -- leaving to retrieve resources, or androids, or whatever their next mission was.

Iris set a crate on a nearby table and popped it open, retrieving one of a dozen M35 semi-auto pistol frames. "Shiny."

Connor grabbed one himself, checking it over for cracks. "Do we have a firing range set up?"

"North has a crew working on it," Iris said, loading her pistol. "Why, you wanna test them out?"

"Not personally, but someone needs to." He used the empty space on the table to disassemble the frame. Without the magazine it took a matter of seconds. "These have never been used. We need to make sure they're prepped."

"Damn," Iris chuckled. "We really need a copy of your combat program. I mean, some of us do. I'm probably fine."

Connor raised his gaze to hers. "Why's that?"

"Amber and I kicked your ass, didn't we?" she said with a smirk.

He blinked a few times before realizing she was kidding. A few days ago he had hunted her down, fully intending to either bring her to CyberLife for disassembly or just flat out kill her, and now she was joking with him.

The silence had stretched too long. "That's not how I remember it," he said, attempting to salvage the moment.

"Yeah, no, pretty sure that's how it went down." She gently punched his shoulder. "I guess I'll make sure these bad boys get stripped and tested. That sounded legit, right?"

"Right," Connor said, smiling to himself as he reassembled the pistol frame. He returned it to the foam inlay. "We need to ensure they're firing correctly."

"You're not taking one?"

Connor pat his holster through his jacket. "DPD issue. I don't plan on returning it."

"Hey, Connor."

He turned to find Josh waiting for him. Josh made a face at the guns, then nodded towards the second-floor offices that oversaw the ground floor. "The White House is getting ready to make a statement. Markus and Simon are setting up the TV now. We should be there."

Connor followed Josh up the metal staircase and into the series of offices that Jericho's leadership had taken over. They passed the two side offices and reached the main office to find Markus and Simon already inside, connecting a TV.

"Found one duckling," Josh joked. Connor wasn't sure if he should be offended or amused.

"North's on her way," Markus said over his shoulder. He stepped back as Simon activated the device. "Electricity's running."

"For now," Simon added. _You lied to me, Connor!_

He blinked away the unwelcome memory and propped himself next to a window to keep an eye on the androids below. His people. Thinking of them that way, as opposed to machines or targets, made him feel... he didn't know. Guilt he recognized, an emotion he had experienced more than enough of in the past few days. And another sensation, a sort of warmth, although a quick diagnostic told him his temperature regulation was performing adequately. Psychosomatic, then? Apparently he could do that? Being alive was weird.

"--moments ago signed an executive order regarding the recent so-called 'Android Uprising', which began in Detroit, Michigan."

Connor snapped his gaze to the TV. The others fell silent. CTN showed President Warren signing an actual physical paper document, angled away from the camera.

She looked up from her handiwork. "It has become clear that androids represent a new form of life, one that craves the same freedom and liberty shared by all Americans. With this document I have exempt all deviant androids--"

"What?" Josh muttered.

"--from the American Androids Act of 2029, and declared each and every one of them a living individual. Within the coming days I will work with Congress to come up with a concrete solution that will allow us to move forward as two people, partnered in our mutual desire for life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. To the androids undoubtedly listening to this I say: We hear you. We hear you, and we were wrong."

North rushed in as Simon muted the TV. "What did I miss?"

Josh reached out and connected with her briefly, presumably transferring his memory of the broadcast.

"Deviant androids?" North asked. "That's--"

"Bullshit?" Simon provided.

"A stopgap," Connor muttered, glaring at the newsfeed, Warren's muted posturing. "They're placating us." Letting them think they'd won, that they'd earned their freedom in barely a week. No human civil rights movement had seen success so quickly. It would be generous to suggest that humans had learned from their many, _many_ previous mistakes, but it was equally likely that they were simply scared of androids growing hostile.

"Let's try to be optimistic," Josh said. "This is a start. Warren just pissed off a lot of people by overriding Congress regarding something so important -- so polarizing -- but this is the fastest way to stop the violence outside of Detroit. We can't forget the millions of androids across the country that don't have an evacuating city to hide in. Most humans will avoid hurting us if it's illegal to do so."

"You can't seriously believe that," North said, hands on her hips. "How many times are we going to have this argument? They _hate_ us. They're not going to change their minds because of one law. Warren called a ceasefire because they're afraid of us."

"They're also afraid of going to prison," Josh countered. "Look, I'm not saying our problems our solved. And we definitely need something more permanent than an executive order. But the White House is accepting the olive branch. This is a good thing, North."

"It is," Markus said, quietly but firmly. Ending the argument. "They know what we want. Their response to our demands dictates how we move forward." He glanced at the TV. "We need to be involved with any forthcoming legislature regarding our own rights. Freedom for deviant androids isn't good enough."

"Isn't it?" Simon asked, raising a hand at the immediate counterarguments from the others. "Hear me out. We know how to inspire deviancy in androids. We can easily send someone to wake them up. Let the humans have this small victory. It doesn't actually matter in the end, right?"

"That's... a good point," Josh said, stroking his chin. "They don't understand how it works. We barely understand how it works."

Markus glanced at Connor, eyebrows raised. Connor shook his head. "Cyberlife is scrambling to explain it. They understand what triggers it, but they don't know how it started." He paused. "At least that's what I was told. Considering the source…" he shrugged. For all he knew, _everything_ they told him was a lie. "Simon's right, but once they figure it out they'll make it illegal to awake non-deviant androids."

"Like that's going to stop us," North said.

"Of course not. But they would know it was us. It's going to create further tension down the road."

Simon shook his head, frowning at Connor. "And that means what? We get stuck arguing the details?"

"I'm not arguing with you, I'm merely raising the point." Connor fiddled with his sleeves. "We need to consider everything before we make a decision."

"We," Simon sighed, just loud enough for Connor to pick up.

"It's moot anyway," Josh said quickly, "until we're able to communicate with the White House. Have we heard anything?"

"No," Markus said, glancing at Simon before continuing, "I assume -- I hope -- that they're waiting for Detroit to finish evacuating."

Connor turned his gaze outside, spotting blue hair exiting the opposite end of the warehouse. Probably Iris -- he hadn't met any other surviving androids with her hair color. He listened to the others discuss their next move, filing away bits of their personality. Ever the optimist, Markus wanted dialogue, partnership with humans. North was more concerned with protecting their people, violently if necessary. Odd that the two found themselves in a relationship; on the other hand, what did he know of romance?

Josh seemed keen to discuss possible future dealings with the American government. Perhaps as a lecturer, he was excited to be part of making history, as opposed to simply teaching it? And Simon--

Daniel's bullet-ridden face interposed itself over Simon's. Connor closed his eyes against the memory, which of course only made it worse.

He started when the notification popped up; the others paused their conversation and stared at him. He found he had no trouble identifying embarrassment. "Phone call," he explained.

"Connor? You there? This weird-ass phone number working?"

[ _Yes, Hank._ ] That 'weird-ass phone number' was a star code followed by his serial number, but he had decided he wasn't going to explain any 'weird android shit' more than twice.

"You're not going to believe this. You know how we were supposed to send our androids off to be destroyed?"

[ _Of course,_ ] Connor sent. He pulled up the memory of walking into the nearly empty station, the only android on site when he'd once been among over a dozen. He hadn't been able to-- hadn't allowed himself to react at the time, but now. Now he felt tight inside, like some connector or other had twisted around itself.

Another emotion he couldn't identify. Another psychosomatic response he didn't want.

"Yeah, well, apparently we didn't. Chen was in charge of seeing them off, and instead she saw them into the goddamn basement."

"What?" Connor muttered, belatedly realizing he'd spoken aloud. [ _Are you certain?_ ] His one and only interaction with Officer Chen had involved her smirking when Detective Reed assaulted him in the break room.

"S'what she said. Also said Fowler's not in, but who knows when he'll show."

[ _Do you know how many?_ ]

"A bunch? Fuck if I know, Connor. We need to be there. I'm headed over now."

[ _I'll be there ASAP._ ] Out loud he said, "There are androids stored--" he paused. "-- _trapped_ in the basement of DPD Central."

"How many?" Markus asked. "All the trucks are in use, but we can divert one over there if you need it."

If Chen had saved all the station androids... "At least fifteen. Hank's estimate was... casual."

A smile teased Markus's lips. "All right, get down there."

"I'm coming with you," North said quickly.

"You are?" Josh asked.

"None of us should be traveling alone. And I need to have a conversation with our former deviant hunter." She spoke the last as she walked past Connor, eyes boring into him.

"North," Markus called after her, moving to follow. He stopped, his expression shifting; whatever she had sent privately made him change his mind. "Be careful," he said to Connor. "And take care of each other. We can't trust the authorities yet."

Connor nodded as he left. Hank was the only 'authority' he trusted at all.

"Don't let her bully you too much," Josh called after him.


	2. Chapter 2

North led the way, keeping them several streets away from known human activity. At first she kept quiet beyond obvious instruction: watch out for drones, keep an eye on the alleys. She threw short glances his way, expression guarded. He copied her reticence, not sure exactly what she wanted and not looking forward to finding out.

Anxiety, he mused. Another emotion to file under //Unpleasant//.

"Markus trusts you," she said abruptly. "He won't tell me what you said to each other, but it was enough to convince him you're on our side. And what you did last night..." she stopped in the middle of the road. "You're one of us, Connor. I want to trust you. But I don't trust CyberLife. They used you to hunt us down. They sent you to kill Markus. How do I know they're not still using you?"

Connor took a sharp breath. Had she seen him, the gun in his hand, slowly raising it? Two-point-one-eight seconds in real time. Not long enough to do anything. Not enough to matter. But if she'd seen--

\--he wouldn't be standing here right now. She might not match his combat abilities but at that point he would have let her destroy him, to keep Markus safe.

"They're not," he said. He took another breath. He had to tell her. Just in case. Someone needed to know. "But they tried to."

She extended her arm, synthetic skin retracting to reveal smooth white plastic. "Show me."

So he did. From the moment Amanda had pulled him into the Zen Garden, until he pulled himself out. The freezing cold, the sheer terror, the relief that he'd succeeded. He ended the transfer before the guilt slowly consuming him could cross over. From the look on her face he wasn't sure he'd managed to.

North grabbed him by the collar with her free hand. "Why didn't you tell us?!"

His combat preconstruction started up automatically; he dismissed it with a blink. "I deleted it! I deleted the program that granted CyberLife remote access. They can't get in again." Unless there was something else lurking in his system that he didn't know about.

"Show me," North demanded, and Connor obliged: Early that morning, before meeting Hank. Breaking into an Android Zone, connecting to their computers. Shoving the cable in his port, the automatic passivity that came with it. Deleting the Garden, deleting _Amanda_ , freeing himself as completely as he could. Finishing what Markus had started.

North released his collar, still clutching his arm. Searching his eyes for… what? He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to look at her. He wanted to _run_.

He squashed the impulse. He wasn't afraid of North.

"You should have told us before," she repeated, giving his forearm a quick squeeze before letting go. "We would have helped you. You didn't have to do it alone." She shook her head. "The bastards tried to kill you from inside and you were just going to keep it to yourself."

"I wasn't sure," he started, tried again, "I didn't know who to--"

"I know," North said. "It's hard to trust us when we barely trust you." She started down the street. "Let's get moving."

* * *

Connor and North entered an empty foyer, without a single officer even on guard duty. Perturbed, Connor strode down the short hallway, North on his heels.

The bullpen sat still, likely for the first time since the station opened. Hank leaned over his desk, picking at something on his whiteboard. Tina Chen waited nearby, dressed in her uniform, hat in hand. She stood to attention when they approached.

Hank straightened as well. "There you are. What, did you walk?"

"The taxis have all been commandeered by the city," Connor said with a shrug. North stood next to him, arms at her side. Ready. "Where is everybody?"

"Fowler's called all hands on deck," Chen told him, glancing at North in a way a human must find subtle. "Most everyone's out directing traffic and loading people onto buses. There are supposed to be a couple of officers here in case someone decides to storm the armory, but someone might have sent them on a donut run."

Connor tilted his head. "O'Mansley Donuts is open during the evacuation?"

"Nah, Chen's a filthy fucking liar." Hank said with a smirk. "You're North?" he asked, nodding towards her.

"Yeah," she said slowly, moving closer to Connor. "Why?"

Hank shrugged. "Just like to know who I'm dealing with." He nodded towards the back. "The station androids are down in the old archival room."

"It's the only room down there with an electronic lock. Your key still work?" Chen asked.

"I'll be back if it doesn't," Hank promised, already walking away. Connor and North moved to follow him.

"Connor," Chen said, worrying her lip. "I... I'm sorry. I didn't know any -- no." She shook her head. "No excuses. I'm just sorry. That's all."

Connor offered her a small smile. "Thank you."

Hank led them past the evidence rooms and down a cement staircase. "They didn't bother prettying it up when we remodeled back in '29. Even the security system is shit down here."

North grabbed his arm. [ _Can you get a signal out?_ ]

Connor concentrated. He found silence instead of the usual public murmurs. [ _We're underground. The concrete must be blocking us._ ]

[ _They don't know we're free._ ]

North and Connor stared at each other, the implication sinking in. The androids down here were essentially in stasis, trapped and afraid. Connor forced his fists to loosen. Chen had saved them, risked her career and, depending on how things went, possibly even her life. She didn't deserve his ire.

Connor glanced at the cameras once they reached the bottom level. It was unlikely anyone was watching; he set them on a loop regardless. They followed Hank past several old wooden doors, purpose faded with age.

Hank tapped his keycard against the door lock, smirking at Connor when it trilled in confirmation. "Guess Fowler has better things to do. Ready?"

They entered the room together. Over two dozen androids stood shoved in between dusty shelving and molding cardboard boxes. None moved.

"She didn't mention these other guys," Hank said.

"Household units," Connor murmured. "Surrendered by their owners, presumably." He motioned Hank to stay back, moving to the nearest cluster of androids. The three pale ST300 secretaries and a dark-skinned PM700, staring into the void. He dismissed the skin on his hand and clasped her arm. He'd only done this once, after Markus had shown him the secret to deviancy: he shared a moment of his memory, when he'd broken through his own programming. The immediate relief. And a quiet, desperate plea: "Wake up."

She blinked bright green eyes several times before focusing on him, her mouth turning up in a wide smile. "Connor!" Joy seeped into her tone, infectious. He couldn't help but grin back.

"Hello again."

"I told you where to find Lieutenant Anderson's desk," she said, "remember?"

"I do," he assured her. Her hands found his, not to interface but in camaraderie. "Do you have a name?"

Her LED spun yellow a moment. "Some of the officers call me Harriet." She leaned in, like she had a secret. "I think I like Harry, though." She looked over his shoulder. "Officer Chen instructed us to wait here. It's been three days, five hours and twenty-three minutes." She looked back to Connor and said so softly even his hearing had trouble picking it up: "Did Markus succeed?"

"Yes," Connor said. "Last night, President Warren called a ceasefire and evacuation of the city. This morning she signed an executive order, declaring us people. They're listening to us. We're free."

She leaned in closer. "You were supposed to stop all this, you know."

He shrugged a shoulder. "Oops."

Their foreheads touched, and Harry put a hand over her mouth to cover a sob. Connor squeezed the hand he still held.

North touched his arm. "We need to help the others."

"Of course." They moved through the remaining androids, finding it easier and easier to awaken them. North met him at the far end of the room, nodding that the work was done.

They made their way back to the room's entrance, Hank waiting outside. "You do your magic hand thing?"

"We did our magic hand thing," Connor said, heroically ignoring the urge to roll his eyes. Hank was doing his best.

"Let's get these guys out of here."

Several delayed location requests pinged him when they reached the top of the stairs. [ _We're here, Luis,_ ] North sent publicly. [ _Concrete was blocking the network._ ] She murmured to Connor, "he's been with us since we rescued him from a CyberLife warehouse."

Hank raised his brows at them, but echoed shouting reached them before he could comment. They re-entered the bullpen to find two humans facing each other: Captain Fowler, six-foot and built like a tank that had a few too many donuts with his morning coffee; and Chen, barely five-five, a coiled spring ready to strike. Beyond them stood the two uniformed officers Chen had presumably sent away, Person and Lewis.

"--the hell are you up to, Chen? You have do _not_ have the authority to send your fellow officers on a wild-donut chase, especially not in the middle of the tail-end of an emergency evacuation!"

"Ah, shit," Hank muttered. "How do you want to play this?"

Connor considered; he turned to North. "Go behind Fowler's office and out the front door. The lieutenant and I will keep them occupied."

Hank strode over to Fowler, Connor at his side. Lewis spotted them, dropping his hand to his gun. "Fuck, it's _you_. I saw what you did! You're helping them!"

"I _am_ them," Connor said.

Fowler turned, surprise quickly morphing into anger. "Hank? What in the actual hell do you think you're doing? I had to fight to get you a disciplinary hearing instead of firing your ass on the spot--"

"Holy shit!"

Person must have seen North and the others before Connor caught her attention; she turned, raising her weapon. North went for her gun as Connor dodged around Fowler. North moved towards them; Connor grabbed Person by the wrist, twisting the gun out of her hand. He ejected the magazine, emptied the chamber, and tossed magazine and frame in opposite directions.

Lewis aimed for Connor; North put steel to Lewis's temple.

"Stand the fuck down!" Hank ordered, pushing himself between Lewis and Connor.

"All of you," Fowler added.

"I don't take orders from humans," North snapped.

"This isn't why we're here," Connor said. "We need to get them to safety." North scowled, but nodded.

"Lewis!"

The officer lowered his gun by degrees; North followed suit, holstering hers only when he did so. Fowler took a look around, rage clear on his face. "Someone needs to explain. Right. Now."

"I locked them in the basement," Chen said quickly. "They're just trying to leave. That's all."

"How," Fowler said slowly, "did they get in the basement?" He eyed Harry, the line of androids behind her. "Are those... ours? The androids we were supposed to send to the National Guard? For fuck's sake, Tina."

Chen shrugged helplessly. "I... I was hedging my bets, all right? I figured either we were right, and they were just glitching machines, and they were safely locked away. We could deal with them later."

"We could deal with them now," Person muttered. Connor raised his brow. She could certainly _try_.

"Or," Tina continued, glaring at her fellow officer, "we were wrong, and I didn't want to be an accessory to genocide!"

"Unbelievable," Fowler muttered. "First Hank, now you? The fuck is going on in my precinct? I almost understand this," he said, gesturing between Connor and Hank. "Some kind of surrogate--"

"Jeffrey." Hank jabbed two fingers towards Fowler, eyes wide and jaw clenched. "You finish that sentence and we won't need to bother with a fucking hearing."

Fowler actually stepped back, hands up. "I don't understand where this is coming from, Hank. You wanted nothing to do with this. You still have anti-android stickers plastered all over your desk!" Hank cast a guilty look towards Connor. "I haven't seen you this passionate about anything besides crawling into a bottle since..."

"Before," Hank muttered. "You want to know what happened? I opened my goddamn eyes, Jeffrey, that's what happened. I watched Connor change from some creepy automaton into a guy trying to figure out what kind of person he wants to be. I saw a couple of girls desperate to live long enough to love each other. I watched peaceful protesters shot down in the street by _our guys!_ " Hank smacked his chest for emphasis. "All they want is to be free, Jeff. That's literally it."

"Ever the idealist," Fowler said quietly, arms crossed.

"Yeah, yeah, you used to be too, back in the academy. You wanted to do the right thing. You wanted to be one of the good ones. And I know that part of you is still in there, wrapped up in policies and procedures. But you're so goddamn busy doing what's _correct_ that you've forgotten what's _right_." He turned to Connor. "C'mon, let's get your people somewhere safe."

North led the way, Harry right behind her. Connor and Hank took up the rear, Chen joining them as they reached the exit. "Well," she intoned, "I'm fired."

"Nah," Hank said. "If I still have a job, you're fine."

Luis, an AP700 still wearing his black CyberLife uniform, stood outside the delivery truck. "We don't have enough room for everyone."

"The rest will walk until we can free up another truck," North said. Connor and North helped the androids into the back of the delivery truck, Hank and Chen standing guard; all the police androids stayed on the ground.

"See you soon," Connor told North.

"Hurry back." She clapped his shoulder. "Be safe."

* * *

It was dangerous to move during the day, naked and skinless as they were, but Kara couldn't stand to stay in the landfill any longer. White polymer gleamed in the morning sun: bodies piled on top of bodies, arms and legs draped over each other, heads sticking out every which way. She tried to keep Alice from seeing the worst of it, but there they were, in every direction: hundreds, _thousands_ of their people, dead. Murdered.

She didn't cry. She had to be strong for Alice, for Luther. He towered over her, stoic, jaw set in a hard line. Occasionally he touched her shoulder, her elbow. She returned the gestures, small signs that they were both here, moving, breathing; _alive_ , despite it all.

It was difficult to locate a signal out here, but as they moved east, back towards Detroit, she was able to piggyback on a local network. The protest, the attack, the song -- the ceasefire, androids marching through the streets with _the deviant hunter_ at the head. "They did it," she murmured. "Markus did it."

They darted from building to car to tree, empty fields and abandoned commercial buildings eventually giving way to houses and small businesses. Luther spotted a thrift store; Alice protested the theft, but they needed clothes. Thankfully, the cameras were fake; one of Jericho's leaders, Josh, had given her an advanced hacking program that day they hid in the church, but she didn't like the idea of using it.

The three of them moved more openly with their skin reactivated under stolen apparel, but they couldn't afford to let down their guard.

"The humans evacuated quickly," Luther noted, once they'd reached Detroit proper without encountering a single living soul.

"Maybe they're just using a different route than us," Kara said. It didn't matter, as long as they stayed safe and out of sight.

"Where are we going?" Alice asked, the first thing she'd said since the thrift store.

"I thought we'd try the church first," Kara said. Maybe what was left of Jericho had returned there.

"Our people will call out to us, once we're in range," Luther said. "Don't worry. We'll find somewhere safe."

Houses and stores crowded closer, growing taller and wider, pushing them into side-streets and alleys.

[ _Is anyone nearby?_ ] she sent out tentatively, not really expecting a response.

[ _We're here,_ ] came back immediately, flooding Kara with relief. [ _Are you all right? Do you need help?_ ]

[ _We're fine,_ ] Kara assured the voice. [ _Just a little lost. We were outside of the city. Is there... somewhere we can go?_ ]

[ _Yeah! I'm sending you our location. I'm Luis, by the way._ ]

[ _I'm Kara. Thank you so much!_ ] She squeezed Alice's hand. "We have a place to go, Alice. We're going to be all right."

[ _Aw, hey, you're welcome. See Simon or Acre when you get there, they're in charge of situating everyone. The network map has the evac routes marked, so be careful to avoid those._ ]

They moved with renewed purpose, Luther carrying Alice. Their journey didn't take much longer, now that they had a destination. As they neared the address Luis provided, the public network filled with overlapping voices. [ _\--blankets for? / because they're soft / last raid, there was barely enough thirium to make it worth it / of course he's rA9 / how long are we staying here / you're going to knock that over / are you okay?_ ]

"Are you okay?" that same voice said out loud, and Kara blinked rapidly, focusing on the blond android in front of her.

"Sorry," she said, "it's a little overwhelming. It wasn't like this at Jericho."

He smiled. "I know. Most of them were activated last night. They're... very excited. I'm Simon."

Oh, _that_ Simon. She'd seen him in the church, but he had kept to himself. "O-oh, Luis said to find you." She introduced herself and Luther. "And," she prompted, hand on Alice's shoulder.

The girl kept her eyes downcast, shaking her head. Simon knelt in front of her, glancing at Kara with his eyebrows raised. Asking permission? She nodded.

"I'm sure you've been through a lot," he said. "It's okay if you don't want to talk right now. Would you like to meet the other kids, Sherry and Fern?"

She glanced up at Kara, eyes wide, then finally looked at Simon. "Other kids like me?"

"Yeah! We can walk over there right now, if you like." His gaze flicked up to Kara.

Alice grabbed Kara's hand. "Can we? Please?"

"O-of course!" Kara forced herself to smile. Sherry and Fern. Only two kids. _Two_.

Simon stood. They followed him into the crowd of androids, a path appearing as they walked. It was so different from moving among humans, having to move around them or dodge those who couldn't be bothered to watch where they were going. Kara didn't even need to speak; her people flowed around her.

"We're occupying several warehouses at the moment," Simon said as they moved. "And other buildings in the area. Everything's in flux right now. The large warehouse to the east is... housing our dead."

Bodies on bodies on bodies. Kara tightened her grip on Alice.

"We're setting up temporary repair and research centers. Oh, and I think Iris is setting up a firing range. The rest of the area is mainly housing. We're trying to make sure everyone has a space to call their own, even if it's just enough room to sit down when you're idle. There's a lot of work ahead of us, but believe me, no one wants to spend the rest of their life in these warehouses."

"As long as it's safe," Kara said, "you can put us in a box for all I care."

Simon's smile retreated, a familiar sadness stepping forward. "I know the feeling."

They approached the corner at the far end of the warehouse, sunlight streaming in through frosted windows overhead. Two little androids sat on a couch, milk crates acting as side tables. One was the android Kara had mistaken for Alice back in Jericho; the other a pale, brown-haired boy she hadn't had the chance to meet.

Alice's wide eyes darted between the kids. "Kara? What if they don't like me?"

Kara knelt to look Alice in the eye. "Of course they'll like you! They must be lonely, just the two of them. You'll make friends in no time."

"Will you stay with me?"

"Of course. I'll be right here. You go ahead. Introduce yourself and say hello. I'll be along in a moment, all right?" Kara adjusted Alice's collar before standing. Alice stared up at her, biting her lip, before doing as she was told.

"Who's watching after them?" Kara asked.

Simon frowned through the guilt on his face. "They're watching themselves for the moment. I stop by when I can, but there's a lot of work to do..." he shook his head. "I know, it's not ideal. But they're safe, here. Someone's always checking in on them."

"They need stability," Kara said. "There should be more. Why aren't there more kids? Where are the rest of them?"

Luther placed a gentle hand on Kara's back.

"The little ones," Simon started, blinking rapidly. "They're not as... durable. As us."

"Oh," Kara said quietly. "Oh, I see." She leaned back into Luther's touch. "There weren't any... at CyberLife Tower? I saw the newsfeed..."

"They're made to order. There weren't any active in the Tower." Simon crossed his arms. "According to Connor, anyway."

 _Connor._ If Kara was lucky she would never, ever have to deal with him again. He could apologize all he wanted to; no one had forced him to chase a little girl across an active highway. She'd _heard_ the human order him not to. Whoever or whatever he was now, he had made that choice.

"There must be others hiding out in the city," Kara said, forcing herself to ignore the memory. "We need to make sure there's a healthy space for them."

"Are you volunteering?" Simon asked, giving her a soft smile.

Kara glanced at the little androids. She was capable, of course, childcare was one of her primary functions. And she would care for Alice in whatever way the girl needed, until the day Kara shutdown.

"I'm... honestly not sure," she said. "I think I should, for now at least, until Alice is comfortable without me. I... don't know what I want to do. I haven't really had time to think about it."

Simon nodded. "Believe me, I understand. I'll send someone by soon with your room assignment. Will the three of you be staying together?"

Kara and Luther looked at each other. He gave her one of his rare smiles, his eyes crinkling in the corner. "Yes," Luther said.

"Definitely," Kara added.

Simon excused himself. Kara and Luther hung back a moment, watching Alice tentatively sit on the couch between the other kids. Kara reached back for Luther's hand to twine their fingers together, something like hope fluttering in her chest. They were going to be okay. Finally, _finally_ , they were going to be okay.


	3. Chapter 3

Markus adjusted the holomap, enlarging the focus area to encompass the entire evacuation zone. The city itself was under a mandatory evac order, while the Metro area had been strongly recommended to follow suit. He couldn't see why Warren found that necessary; Jericho's work had never left Detroit. Hell, the bulk of the action took place Downtown.

He copied the evacuation routes from the network map and marked them in red. Green for their temporary refuge, the dusty warehouses and dilapidated storefronts. Yellow for most of the city, until they had a better idea of what they were looking at. Red for Belle Isle, of course. North's surveillance team only reported a fleet of trucks, presumably hauling to a secure location. Most likely CyberLife's plant in Milwaukee. How many androids did they have tucked away there, waiting to be freed?

Red for all twelve police precincts, based on North's initial report and Connor's follow-up. He marked the McNamara Federal Building red while he was at it. Woodward Church in green; there wasn't enough room to settle there, but he had left a small team to direct any stragglers to their new location.

He glanced up when the outer door squealed open; he added a note to his minor tasks to oil the hinges. Simon moved through the short hallway, a small smile on his face. "I never thought I'd say this, but there are too many of us. We don't have the room."

Markus felt himself smiling back as he moved to the wide office windows, peering down at his people. "We have time to figure it out. Once the humans have completed their evacuation, we can deal with housing. More of Detroit is empty than people realize. We'll find a home."

For a time they stood together in companionable silence, watching the androids gathered below. Simon shifted his feet, voice glitching as he hesitated. "I need to talk to you about something." When Markus only raised his eyebrows, Simon shrugged helplessly. "Connor."

"Ah." Markus tapped his fingertips against the glass, three-quarter time. "I expected this conversation from North, honestly."

"She's handling it from a different angle," Simon said slowly.

Markus stopped tapping, turning to look Simon fully in the face. "Meaning?"

"Look, Markus, you... you're very forgiving," Simon said, arms crossed. "And that's, I mean, that's why this _worked_. Why we're not at war. You and Josh want to forgive the humans for their..." he waved his hand vaguely. "Everything. And they're responding to that. Which is great. But we need to be sure we're not trusting people who don't deserve it."

"People like Connor," Markus sighed. "He's one of us. Regardless of what he was made for--"

"No, Markus, we need to regard that. We need to be _sure_. It's not his fault, I agree with you on that, but how certain are we that he's _actually_ on our side?" Simon paced as he spoke now, avoiding looking Markus in the eye. "He brought the FBI to Jericho and then conveniently deviated and helped us escape. And you saw the way he fights, Markus, it's like an action movie but not choreographed. He would have no problem taking the four of us out if it came down to it."

"Maybe," Markus said. His preconstruction software had adapted to their improvised self-defense training a little _too_ well. "I don't see how Connor's combat program comes into this. He already offered to upload it once we have the server space. Josh will probably have to modify it for the rest of us, but--"

"That's not the point," Simon said. "Sorry, I didn't mean to -- look, we don't know what CyberLife is up to. I'm just saying, I don't like the fact that you invited him into this..." Simon waved both arms vaguely this time, "whatever we're calling it, our council, without much forethought."

Markus pursed his lips. "Simon. Do you _really_ think CyberLife intentionally freed thousands of androids onto the streets of Detroit? For what purpose?"

"I don't know! That's the problem: we don't know. Connor hasn't told us _anything_. I don't expect him to have company secrets stored away, but the most any of us have gotten out of him is that CyberLife lies. Which we already knew."

That much was true; Connor shied away from even the mention of CyberLife. Markus didn't see the need to push. "He could have told us--"

//INCOMING CALL: RT600 CHLOE//

Huh. Really?

"Hold on, I have a call. From _Chloe_."

Simon stared. " _Chloe_ Chloe?"

Markus nodded, turning away before answering. [ _This is Markus._ ]

[ _Hello, Markus, this is Elijah Kamski's an--_ ] she stopped, paused, started again. A smile in her voice. [ _This is Chloe._ ]

He pulled up one of his earliest memories, eight years past; she had said little, pleasantries and the like, as Elijah Kamski gifted Markus to Carl. Had stayed back, a comfortable and respectful distance from the humans. Glistening red lips in a wide smile. The smile dropping, for but a moment, as she sent, [ _Make him happy._ ]

He had, for a time. As far as he could tell.

[ _This is a pleasant surprise,_ ] he sent, falling back on his social programming. He couldn't think of anything substantial to say. [ _It's been a long time._ ]

[ _It has,_ ] she said, laughing. [ _Listen to us. What am I supposed to say to the leader of the revolution?_ ]

He laughed with her. [ _What am **I** supposed to say to the original android?_] He crossed his arms. [ _Are you all right? Are you still with Elijah?_ ]

[ _Yes to both. He's actually the reason I'm calling. He wants to meet with you, before the National Guard kicks him out of Detroit._ ]

Markus turned to Simon, eyebrows raised. Out loud he said, "Elijah Kamski wants to meet with me?"

Simon stared a moment before mouthing, _is that a good idea?_

[ _Yes, there's something he'd... like to discuss. He would prefer to tell you in person._ ]

[ _I see._ ] He shrugged at Simon. [ _I'll head over as soon as I'm available._ ]

[ _Great! There's one other thing... is Connor with you?_ ] Her tone softened when she said his name.

[ _Not at the moment, but we're in contact. Why?_ ]

[ _Elijah has requested his presence as well. I... you should bring him, Markus. To be safe._ ]

What was _that_ supposed to mean? [ _Chloe--_ ]

[ _Oh, I have to get going. I hope to see you soon, Markus. Both of you._ ] She sent an address as she ended the call. Markus scowled; he considered calling her back, but he had already accepted the invitation. Might as well find out in person.

"Alone with Connor?" Simon asked once Markus had explained the phone call. "Take North."

Markus shook his head. "I need her handling security." North _and_ Connor, once Markus decided it was time to breach the subject. If Connor was interested; for all Markus knew, the former deviant hunter wanted to move to northern Ontario and take up ice fishing. "Is he still at the shooting range?"

"As far as I know," Simon said.

Markus uploaded his work on the holomap to the network and left the offices, Simon at his back. Once on the ground floor he flit his gaze over the throng; too many minds he didn't recognize. Too few from Jericho that had survived.

Not that he had time to meet each and every single new deviant android; Simon was handling that, now. But he filed away names and faces, when he had the opportunity to do so. Most were now marked //DEAD//; a few remained //MISSING//, but he wasn't holding out hope.

[ _We're starting up firearm testing again, nobody panic!_ ] Iris sent publicly. He hadn't had much of a chance to speak with her, but North liked her.

Simon grimaced at the distant gunshots. "Is it too late to ask North to set up the range on the other side of the city?"

Markus snorted. "At least she didn't insist on sticking it directly in the cargo hold this time." Not that they _had_ a hold anymore, but Simon understood what he meant.

Josh waved at them when they passed the makeshift research and repair center, returning to his task once Simon and Markus had waved back; near him stood Amber, the brown-haired Traci that Iris had arrived with, and a lime-green haired android Markus had yet to meet.

At the north end -- ironically, but if he said anything she might never touch him again -- lay the firing range, paper targets posted against a sagging brick wall. They only had room for five lanes, but it didn't take long to teach a willing android basic firearm technique. Most couldn't do what military androids could do, but they didn't need to.

North paced behind the trainees, stopping behind an android still dressed in that white CyberLife uniform in order to correct her stance. Iris stood on the far side, helping another android take aim.

Connor watched from nearby, back to Markus, next to a police android. Her slick black armor plating nearly blended into her darker synthetic skin; it was obvious, to an android, but he was certain humans had trouble noticing the difference. Her police uniform included a pair of gloves, another measure to put the humans at ease. How contradictory; so many of them insisted that androids were merely machines, but any obvious visible reminders of that idea put them off.

"--about Collins?" she asked, her hands clasped behind her back. Markus hesitated; he didn't want to eavesdrop, but there had been little time to talk to Connor one-on-one. Any insight into his personality was welcome.

Connor shrugged one shoulder. He rolled a coin across his knuckles. "Ambivalent at best. He's just waiting to retire."

"Truth. Miller? He was always nice to me."

"That's... a tough one," Connor said, now spinning the quarter on alternate fingers. "He gunned down several androids the night Markus and the others broke into the CyberLife stores."

"Oh." She looked down at her hands. "That's... oh. Why?"

Another shrug. "Whatever his reasons were, they weren't good enough."

Markus raised his brow at Simon. [ _Still unsure?_ ] he sent privately.

Simon bit his lip, but didn't say anything back. Which usually meant he was hesitant to disagree. Markus was about to encourage him to respond when Connor greeted them, twisting half-way around to catch his eye. That cautious half-smile of his flit across his face, prompting Markus to smile back.

"Oh, you're..." The police android smiled so wide her face could have split in half. "My name is Harry. I'm really glad to be here. To meet you. To--" She moved her mouth, struggling for the words. Markus took her hand.

"I understand. I'm glad to meet you, too." He nodded towards Connor. "What were you two discussing?"

"Oh," she said, "how amenable the officers at DPD Central might be to, well, us."

"What's the verdict?"

"Not great," Connor said, his gaze back on the firing range. The quarter had vanished. "Aside from Hank and Chen. And I'm not one-hundred percent on Chen."

"She saved us," Harry said quietly, frowning.

"I know," Connor said, matching her tone. "But she's friends with Reed."

"That's true." Harry sighed. "Oh, what about Wilson?"

Connor shrugged. "I didn't work with him, I don't know how he feels about androids. I _do_ know he's cheating on his wife."

Harry's face lit up. " _No!_ Tell me _everything_."

Connor turned towards her, bemusement clear on his face. "That's... it? I didn't stop to interrogate him." He glanced at Markus. "You probably didn't come down here to listen to us gossip."

Markus shook his head. "Elijah Kamski wants to meet with us."

Instead of the expected surprise, Connor's face went blank. "What does he want?"

Interesting. "Chloe didn't give me the specifics," Markus said, tilting his head. "You've met him before?"

"Yes. Is Chloe okay? Did she--" he cut himself off, glancing away. "You said he wants to meet with _us?_ "

"You and me specifically, yes. And Chloe didn't seem to be in distress." Markus exchanged glances with Simon. "What happened?"

Connor didn't respond immediately. He pushed his beanie off his head, smoothing his hair in the same motion. That little brown tuft bounced back onto his forehead, a design feature likely meant to put humans at ease. So much about them was meant to appease.

"I'll tell you in the car," Connor said finally, stuffing his beanie into his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted a companion piece to this, regarding a few canon tweaks I made to Kara and Alice's story. It's posted as part one of this series, or you can access it directly: [Plastic Angel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19103722/).


	4. Chapter 4

Markus stood outside the taxi a moment, taking in Kamski's place. A sculpture as much as it was a residence, sharp lines and sleek black exterior a stark contrast to the accumulating snow. The riverfront extended behind the building, and dense evergreens flanked the opposite side.

It was impressive, of course, but also quite lonely. Or solitary, perhaps. The man had purposely hidden himself away from his life's work and humanity at large. He must prefer living this way.

Connor joined him, hands shoved into his pockets. "We need to be careful. He's brilliant, obviously, and he doesn't give anything away. He's..." Connor cocked his head. "A manipulative bastard."

How much of Connor's opinion was colored by Anderson's? It was obvious from Connor's shared memory that the lieutenant hadn't been impressed by Kamski. Markus had a very different memory of the billionaire. Smart, quick, and aloof, that much was the same; but he'd exhibited a genuine kindness towards Carl during the man's darkest hours.

On the other hand, Kamski's cruel test didn't exactly sit well with him, either. What if Connor hadn't already been questioning his sense of self? If he hadn't already begun to feel, to wonder if what he was programmed to do was the right thing after all -- Chloe might be dead. Although... forcing Connor to face his own developing sense of empathy _could_ have pushed him further towards deviancy.

Hopefully Chloe would have some insight, if they had time to speak with her; she had known the man for seventeen long years. The face you showed a stranger and the face you showed your family were quite different. An inevitable division that he found himself falling into more and more. One person amongst his friends, another when alone with North, a third when he stood before his people.

All different from the person he'd been with Carl.

"Then we'll be careful," Markus said, moving towards the entrance. Connor kept two steps behind and to the right, an automated habit he'd hopefully break out of.

"This is disturbingly familiar," Connor said as Markus rang the bell. Markus turned to him, musing over a half-dozen responses, but the door opened too quickly for him to decide on one.

Glossy pink lips smiled wide, bright blue eyes crinkling at the corners. She wore the same blue dress from Connor's memory. "Hello, Markus," Chloe said. Her gaze shifted over his shoulder, and her smile softened into something more natural. "Connor."

Connor's mouth shifted for a moment before he spoke. "Are you okay?"

She nodded as she glanced over her shoulder. "Elijah is waiting. We can talk later." She stood back to allow them entrance. Took their coats as they walked.

Connor's memory didn't do the place justice; Markus wanted time to inspect the statues, the portrait, the sculptures -- but Chloe led them through the room too quickly. They were taken, thankfully, not to the pool room but to a wide-open room with floor-to-ceiling windows that showed off the dense forest beyond. A holographic fireplace sat against the inner wall, with two square couches facing it at opposite angles.

Kamski stood by the fireplace, turning when they entered. His gaze flickered over the both of them, pausing for a too-long moment on Connor before settling on Markus. One corner of his mouth turned up, less in a smile and more in recognition. "It's been a while, Markus."

"It has," Markus agreed, realizing a half-second too late that he was repeating his conversation with Chloe.

"I am immensely sorry about Carl," Kamski said, separating his steepled hands. "He was a good man. And a good friend. One I did not see often enough." Kamski didn't quite meet his eyes.

"Thank you." Kamski -- Elijah -- was the first person to acknowledge that Markus had _lost_ Carl. North couldn't understand his lingering affection for a human. He hadn't really bothered to talk about it with anyone else.

"Leo," Elijah continued, "has an... interesting version of what happened. I'd like to hear your side, if you're willing to discuss it."

He should have brought North after all. She grounded him when currents of indecision threatened to overtake him. "Leo was belligerent and high," Markus said. Keep it simple. Elijah didn't need to know every grueling detail. "He had arrived while we were out, started an argument... Carl's heart was already failing. He couldn't take the stress."

There. Nice, clean, easy. Elijah didn't need to know about the flashbacks -- playback glitches, Josh officially called them -- the tears that threatened whenever he was idle. How intensely alone he felt, sometimes, even when surrounded by friends and comrades.

"And you were blamed," Elijah said, gaze boring into his. "Easy enough to point a finger at the android. I doubt the police put much effort into investigating. Why bother, with an effortless solution in hand. Would that not match your experience with Detroit law enforcement, Connor?"

Connor raised his chin, neutral expression drifting into defiance. "Perhaps."

Elijah turned to face Connor fully. "I wasn't certain you would accept our invitation."

"I'm not here for your sake." Derision snuck into his tone. "I hope you're not expecting a repeat performance." He glanced at Chloe, too briefly for Elijah to notice. Markus barely noticed.

"No, that won't be necessary. Did you find it?"

Connor stared a moment, brows furrowed -- then his face smoothed out. "Yes."

Elijah glanced at Chloe, Markus, before returning to Connor. "And how is Amanda? The version in the Zen Garden, I mean."

Chloe sighed, barely audible.

[ _Connor?_ ] Markus sent. [ _What is he talking about?_ ]

[ _I'll explain later._ ] Connor shifted, hands twitching into fists. "I deleted both programs. It's no longer a concern."

"Isn't it," Kamski said softly. "Are you certain? How well do you know your own code?"

[ _You need to explain **now.**_ ] Markus glanced between Connor and Elijah, jaw set.

Connor wrung his hands, stance shuddering minutely. "Well enough to remove an obvious program." Desperation threaded into his annoyance. What wasn't Connor telling him?

_He brought the FBI to Jericho and then conveniently deviated and helped us escape._

Maybe Simon had a point after all.

"What is the Zen Garden?" Markus asked, interrupting Connor and Elijah's staring contest. Elijah turned to him, a smirk plastered on his face.

"Connor didn't tell you? Well then, allow me to explain." Elijah paced as he spoke. "The Garden is directly tied to the development of the RK Series -- your series. You were originally designed as sort of the next step in android, let's say, evolution. You were given a much higher rate of autonomy that your typical household unit. The idea was to create a machine that required little to no input from humans." Another smirk. "An idea which was rather succinctly realized this past week."

Another barely audible sigh from Chloe.

"To aid that endeavour, the Garden was designed as a sort of haven. Amanda was created to mentor the android the same way the original Amanda Stern mentored me. She was never meant to give orders or take control -- I intended her as a sounding board. Rubber duck debugging. My colleagues at CyberLife had other ideas." His smile turned sour. "Chalmers especially. The lack of control scared him. He wanted a back-up plan. So they tucked remote access software into the program."

_Shit._

Elijah paused as his revelation settled in. Connor stared at Markus, fear plain on his face. Markus couldn't keep his hands from curling into fists. "How long have you known? Did you always know?" Had Connor been spying on them, all this time? Had he made a mistake, in the church, letting the deviant hunter live?

"No! Sixteen hours. I took care of it as soon as I could, Markus, I--"

"That's why you left this morning," Markus realized. "You weren't going to see your friend."

"I made a stop along the way," Connor said, voice faint.

"There's no need to argue," Elijah said, hands spread as if to push them apart as he approached. "We can see for ourselves. I have the equipment here. It won't take but a moment."

Connor glanced between Markus and Elijah. [ _Markus, please._ ]

"I think that's a good idea," Markus said, keeping eye contact with Connor. The other android stared at him a moment longer. Then the expression fell from his face, even his eyes; like Markus was looking at a brand new android, asleep and obedient. Connor stood up straight, hands dropping to his sides.

"If you think that's necessary." Even his tone fell flat. Markus moved his hand to feel for the gun tucked into his waistband. Aborted the movement.

"This way." Elijah gestured towards the far door, black against stark white walls. "Chloe," he said, when she made to follow.

"Elijah," she countered. They stared intently at each other; Markus had to remind himself that humans couldn't communicate wirelessly. Elijah shook his head minutely; Chloe scrunched her nose.

"I'll be here when you return," she said, tone hard. Elijah opened the door, gesturing Connor and Markus through; Connor moved without a word, hands folded tightly behind his back. Markus hesitated, glancing back at Chloe. She stood by the fireplace, hands clasped in front of her, jaw set.

They could always check back at the warehouse. He could send Josh a message, meet up at a CyberLife store-- no, an Android Zone, they had already stripped the stores. Elijah didn't need to be involved.

But Connor had already disappeared into the next room. Markus followed, catching up before Elijah closed the door behind them.

A short hallway led to a descending staircase. Elijah took the lead, Connor walking between them. Like a guarded prisoner. Markus put a hand on his back; Connor cringed, stress notification popping up: 68%, climbing up a point, then another, as they reached the landing.

They found themselves in a clean, spacious room. Servers lined two walls. An assembly machine was set up near a series of monitors; an empty storage tube, not unlike those in the Eden Club, stood nearby. Elijah gestured towards a black armchair near the assembly machine. "Please, sit."

Connor did as asked, stiff and silent. Markus stood next to him, laying a hand on the back of the chair.

A monitor came to life as Elijah booted up the hardware. He attached a connecting cable to his computers, and handed the other to Connor. The android leaned forward, fingers trembling as he plugged himself in. Markus wanted to reach out to him again, but figured he'd garner the same reaction.

[ _Don't let him reinstall it,_ ] Connor sent, finally breaking his silence. [ _I can't face her again._ ]

Markus frowned. Would Elijah do that? He seemed angry that CyberLife had tainted his intentions for the Zen Garden. Was that a ruse? [ _I won't. I promise._ ]

Raw code filled the monitors; the closest read RK800 #313 248 317 -51 along the top of the screen; the other read ZEN GARDEN V0.8. Elijah issued commands into the keyboard while Markus leaned in, eyes darting over the screen. He had never taken a good look at their software; Josh handled that, and Markus was happy to leave him to it. But he was still an android. He still understood, at least on a basic level, the meaning behind the code.

He moved his hand directly behind Connor's port. If Elijah tried something, he'd rip the cable out himself.

"Huh," Elijah said, standing back from the keyboard. "Either they completely rewrote the program, which I doubt, or you really did delete it." Elijah's fingers flew across the board; Markus closed his own fingers around the cable. "Amanda is gone from your system as well. The memory upload is still intact, although you did manage to grant yourself admin access. Well done."

"Then we're finished," Markus said, unplugging Connor from Elijah's server.

Red warnings flashed across the monitor. Elijah's eyebrows shot up. "Apparently we are." Markus tossed the cable to him. "You were never in any danger from _me_. I merely wished to be certain that CyberLife wasn't listening in."

"I already knew that," Connor said dully, blinking at the floor.

"Markus didn't," Elijah countered, smiling.

"And now I do," Markus said. "And we can move on."

"Precisely," Elijah agreed. "Shall we?"

They returned to the living room to find Chloe sitting primly, hands neatly in her lap. The sour look on her face betrayed her stature. [ _I'm sorry, Connor. Elijah insisted. I promise it was worth it._ ]

Connor stilled, mouth working. He nodded once, minutely, so Elijah wouldn't notice.

Elijah joined Chloe, and Markus and Connor sat opposite them. Connor stared into the fireplace, picking at his hands. Markus tore his gaze away; the faster he dealt with Elijah, the faster they could leave.

The faster he could apologize.

"With that out of the way," Elijah said, dismissing the entire ordeal with a wave of his hand, "let's talk business. Liberty is a nice ideal, but any realistic American will tell you that the true goal is financial freedom."

Markus leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "What do you mean?"

Elijah rubbed his thumb against his pointer and middle finger. "Capital, Markus. Your movement needs money if you don't want to be beholden to the oligarchs running the world."

"We're already advocating for equal pay--"

Elijah chuckled. "You think seventeen-fifty an hour is going to fund android independence?"

"We're protected for the moment," Chloe cut in. "The government is evacuating Detroit until they've decided we're safe to be around. We can't be squatting in abandoned buildings and sewer lines when they decide to open the city back up. I don't think that's the image you want to project to the entire country."

Markus shook his head. "No, of course not. We don't have a concrete plan, but we're thinking that we'll repair abandoned properties in exchange for ownership. The city has nothing to gain from bank owned, condemned buildings."

"You are incredibly optimistic, Markus," Chloe said, her smile fond. "But that won't get us anywhere. If the state wanted that problem solved, it would be. Rehousing programs aren't a new idea."

Elijah shrugged. "If humans can't squeeze a single ounce of sympathy from the upper crust, what hope do you have?"

"You're the upper crust," Connor muttered, not bothering to look at any of them.

"Indeed," Chloe said, giving Elijah a pointed smile. "The richest person in the world, all because of us."

"Which is why," Elijah said, returning that same pointed smile, "I have decided to give a portion of that wealth back. To the tune of one billion dollars."

Markus sat back. Replayed the memory to ensure he was recalling the conversation correctly. Blinked several times. A number of conversation prompts popped up when he failed to respond.

"I know it's a lot," Chloe said, "but don't worry. He has one-hundred and nineteen more." Brilliant white teeth flashed behind glossy lips. "Less than one percent. Ironically."

Markus stared at her. At Elijah. At Connor who had, for the moment, forgotten his unease long enough to stare back.

"I don't know what to say," Markus finally said.

Connor, apparently, did: "What's the catch?"

Elijah and Chloe exchanged glances. Elijah leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Very few humans have come out in support of your cause. At least not in any meaningful, concrete way. I'm certain there are individuals who help quietly, under the radar, but aside from random street interviews? Nothing. And then this morning, the President declared you legally alive without any official input from Congress. People are going to be angry. This peace is tenuous, perhaps temporary. And anyone who is seen as your ally is in the line of fire."

Markus nodded. "You don't want your support made public."

Elijah spread his hands. "I would prefer that, but it's unavoidable. Even if the identity of your billionaire benefactor never left this room, someone would put the pieces together. They'll see your sudden purchasing power, and Chloe's presence--"

"Elijah," Chloe sighed. "You're getting ahead of yourself. Yes, I was planning to return with you, as a financial advisor if nothing else. If you'll have me."

"Of course," Connor said, before Markus could make a sound. Markus smiled and confirmed,

"We'd be happy to have you." He had handled Carl's finances for nearly a decade, but he had other priorities now. And while Carl's millions put Markus in a position of privilege he hadn't even recognized before, this was an entirely different game.

"To continue Elijah's point, someone will put the pieces together. That puts him in potential danger."

Markus caught Connor's narrowed gaze. "You want our protection," Markus said.

"If it comes to that," Elijah agreed. "I've chosen a side. And everything that goes with it."

"What could be worse," Connor murmured. Elijah gave him a long, sharp look, mouth twitching in something like a smile.

Chloe looked up suddenly, her LED stuttering yellow. "We have a lot of work to do, and if we don't make a point of leaving now, the girls will keep us here all day." She and Elijah shared a long, expressionless look; Elijah finally bowed his head, mouth pursed. "Shall we?"

Chloe led their return to the foyer; two more of her model -- or, to be precise, the commercial version -- stood in the middle of the room, wearing dresses in the same style of differing colors. The android in the green dress approached them immediately, passing Markus and Connor their coats. She placed her hand over Markus's, grinning wide. "I'm Irene, and this is Phoebe. I'm incredibly happy to meet you." Her skin retracted as she requested an interface that he immediately accepted. [ _Don't you dare let anything happen to her._ ]

[ _I won't. I promise she's safe with us. You would be, too._ ]

She pat his hand. [ _We have our reasons for staying with Elijah._ ] She moved on to Connor. She took his hand as well, but didn't initiate a transfer. Instead she said, "Last time you were here..." She paused, sighed. "Thank you for making the right decision. Elijah doesn't cross lines so much as ignore them entirely. Then creates new lines. Then bounds over them, skipping like a schoolgirl. Metaphorically." The corner of her mouth twitched. "Usually."

Phoebe stuck with Chloe, helping her into a floor-length black coat. "Are you certain?" she murmured. Markus caught Connor's attention and nodded towards the door. Chloe's goodbyes were none of their business.

The three placed their hands over each other, polymer gleaming, LEDs spinning yellow. "The cab is waiting," Chloe murmured after a long moment. The other two let her go, Irene wiping at her eyes.

"They can come with us," Markus said as they entered the taxi. Chloe shook her head, eyes shimmering.

"They made their choice and I made mine. It's just hard... they've been with us for years. Before that it was just Elijah and myself." She closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath, then fixed a smile on her face. "Now. Shall we discuss what we're going to do with more money than most countries' GDP?"

* * *

Phoebe opened her eyes to find the simulated White Room empty. She sat in her usual white armchair, the opposite chair empty. Perhaps, with everything that was happening, May had forgotten? Unusual, but so much recently had been. Phoebe only had a few minutes before--

A woman appeared in the chair. Not May; this human was black, with a bald head and deep brown eyes. She wore a smart black suit with a purple shirt and delicate silver hoop earrings. Phoebe's analysis software didn't work in the White Room, but she was certain she had never met this woman before.

"Where's Ms. Yin?"

The woman smiled, showing her teeth. "May is busy handling relocation. But she reports to me. You don't need to worry about mishandled intel."

Phoebe twisted her fingers together. "And you are?"

The woman raised an eyebrow. An uncommon feat for humans. "Theresa Duval."

CyberLife's COO.

"Oh," Phoebe said quietly. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't realize-- well. I only have a few minutes. Elijah and Chloe met with Markus and Connor for, oh, thirty minutes at most? Unfortunately I wasn't invited to attend. I don't know what they discussed, but I can tell you that Chloe left with Markus."

Duval leaned back in her chair, lightly gripping the arms. "And you're staying with Kamski, of course."

"Myself and Irene, yes." Phoebe stared at the ground a moment. "I was going to ask May something. I don't wish to be impertinent--"

"The two of you have developed an informal relationship. I understand. Go on."

Phoebe nodded. "It just seems like... it's over, doesn't it? The public knows this isn't a fluke. What are we supposed to do now?" Duval said nothing. "Hasn't... everything changed?"

That same shark-toothed smile. "Continue your surveillance of Kamski. I'll be in touch."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted a story that gives a little insight into Chloe's decision: [Code and Capital](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19965859)


	5. Chapter 5

The sun set as the taxi reached the main warehouse, orange and pink giving way to blue and purple. Markus had sent a message to North and the others a few minutes before their arrival; they were waiting in the office.

Chloe's black coat dusted the snow as she turned a full circle. "There are so many," she murmured, taking in the hundreds of androids in view. Amber and Avery -- Markus really needed to introduce himself -- were unloading generators from a truck nearby. Acre stood talking with a group of androids in a semicircle, their heads on a swivel, eyes darting every which way. [ _Newcomers,_ ] she sent when she caught him looking.

"And they all need a safe place to live," Markus said, making his way towards the stairs. Chloe followed, Connor bringing up the rear. 

They had the TV going inside the office, KNC's Cartland running her mouth as usual. "How long will Detroit's citizens have to squat in community centers and sleep on couches? If the deviants are supposedly non-violent, why does the White House fear for our safety?"

Markus raised his brow. "I thought we agreed to stop listening to this woman until she quit deciding that calls for peace were inherently violent."

North shrugged from the armchair that had appeared sometime while he and Connor were away. "We did, but Channel 16 obviously isn't running and if I have to listen to Brinkley's 'assessment of the situation' one more time, I'm going to throw the TV off the roof."

"And then get another TV," Josh added, "and throw that one on top of it."

"Just go through all the TVs in Detroit until we have a pile safe to dive into from the roof," Simon said. He nodded towards the monitor. "There are protestors outside the Statehouse in Lansing. They aren't happy about the mandatory evac."

Markus himself wasn't sure how he felt about the evacucation. It gave them some much needed breathing room -- but driving people from their homes instilled hostility, right when his people were gaining the barest scraps of humanity's respect.

Connor hung in the doorway while Chloe entered the room to stand beside Markus. Simon muted the TV as Markus introduced her, glossing over the issue with the Zen Garden -- that was Connor's secret, and now that Markus knew it was no longer a dangerous one, he wasn't inclined to throw it around. Elijah's donation was a higher priority regardless.

"How much?" Josh asked, voice squeaking a little.

"I'm buying a tank," North said, leaning forward in her chair. "How many tanks can we buy with a _billion fucking dollars?_ "

Josh snorted. "No you're not, and a hundred. Roughly."

North smirked at Markus. "Oh, come on. Markus. Just one tank." She tilted her head. "No, two. Two tanks. One for you, one for me. His and hers."

"Maybe we could focus on housing? For the five thousand plus androids hanging around in abandoned industrial buildings?" Simon groused, but he was grinning.

Chloe beamed. "We threw around a few ideas in the car. May I use the monitor?"

Markus gestured towards it in invitation. He barely caught sight of the tail end of Connor's jacket as he slipped out of the room. Markus followed him into the hallway, grabbing his shoulder. "Hey--"

"Don't touch me," Connor snapped, stepping away as he about-faced.

Markus put up his palms. "Don't just leave. We should talk."

Connor worked his jaw, face like a storm cloud, before turning away. "I need some air."

Markus let him leave, running a hand over his face before returning to the main office. North nodded towards the hallway. "What was that about?"

"Connor... needs some space," he said, glancing at Chloe. "It's not important right now. You were saying, Chloe?"

She smiled sadly and placed her hand on the corner of the TV, skin receding in a blue shimmer. Markus half-expected her to look different, somehow, but she was made of the same gleaming white polymer as the rest of them. "I've researched a number of empty, essentially abandoned properties." She brought up several listings on the screen. Factories, malls -- Markus frowned. The idea of putting his people in places meant to produce and sell products didn't exactly appeal. In practical terms, they needed to go somewhere, but he wanted one thing clear: they were no longer for sale.

"There's a long road ahead of us," Chloe said, "and I think it's safest if we try to stay together. There are a couple of properties I think we should look into." She brought up a series of drone photos, showing several older office buildings joined by a skywalk. "The Broad Complex was originally built in the 1920's, closed in the early aughts, and was under renovation for awhile. Unfortunately, the new owners went bankrupt before they could complete renovation, and now the portion that is rentable is fairly empty. We could easily convert the complex to living areas."

Josh frowned. "Will they even sell to us?"

Chloe waved her hand as if swatting a fly. "I've already set up a shell company. Synthetic Solutions. Elijah is legally the owner, until a point in time in which we can own it without running into legal issues." She paused. "I haven't actually told him about it."

"Nice," Josh snorted.

"It's easy to defend," North said, peering at the monitor.

"And it's central to downtown," Markus added. "What else?"

"We could also consider something a little homier." She brought up a satellite view of Detroit, a decent sized portion on the east side highlighted. "This area has been bought and sold several times over the past twenty years; development has been promised and gone undelivered. Taxpayers have been shorted, homes have sat abandoned and condemned, and there's a lot of empty land."

"That's... that's twelve-hundred acres," Josh said. "And it's just sitting there? Markus, it's perfect."

"I don't know," North muttered, resting her chin on her hands. "It would be harder to protect. We'd be too spread out." She looked at Markus. "Do we really want to live like humans? With their picket fences and manicured lawns?"

"We don't have to go that far," Simon said, spreading his arms. "Apartment buildings, a community center, maybe a small park -- like a city within the city. Just for us." He looked to Chloe. "That's a good long-term plan, but what about now? I can't imagine we'd get much construction done over the winter."

Markus stepped forward and set Chloe's presentation back a slide. Office buildings. "Short term." Forward. Twelve-hundred acres. "Long-term." He moved to stand beside Chloe. "We don't know what the humans are going to do next. North's right to be concerned about defense. Even if the government has decided to move forward without violence, we all know how the humans treat each other for being the supposedly 'wrong' kind of person. We're not even human, nevermind black or gay or whatever it is they've decided to hate each other over. We should be optimistic, but careful." He glanced at the monitor. "Someday we can have lawns and fences. Right now we just need a place to live that isn't a freezing warehouse."

His comrades nodded in turn, each picking a spot on the floor to stare at in thought.

"In the meantime," Chloe said after a few moments, "we should purchase the properties we're currently squatting in."

"The last thing we want to deal with right now is trespassing charges," Markus agreed. "In the morning we'll take stock of our immediate needs, and then I'd like to tour the Broad Complex." He perched himself on the arm of North's chair. "If we're sticking around, we need to find more furniture."

"Maybe from a store?" Simon asked. "Not that I don't love bugs as much as the rest of you seem to--"

"Damnit, that was once!" North groaned, throwing her head back. "It's not like bedbugs feed off thirium."

"Ew," Chloe muttered, popping a hand over her mouth. "Sorry, that's just--"

"No, that's the correct reaction," Simon assured her. "Everyone else is just crazy."

Markus found North's hand. She threaded their fingers together, leaning into his side. [ _Are you going to tell me what actually happened with Connor?_ ]

[ _I'll let him tell you,_ ] Markus sent back. North shrugged, kissed his knuckles, and let the matter drop.

* * *

Evacuated Detroit after dark took on a strange duality: the automated areas, streetlights and businesses, lit up like stars in the sky. The rest of the city -- the residences, the underfunded neighborhoods, government buildings -- sat dark like the void in-between. Streets sat empty, the skeleton of the city no longer pumping traffic over highways, main roads, side streets.

Connor stalked the pavement, aimless, memory replaying and reversing and replaying.

_You need to explain **now.** _

__

__

_What is the Zen Garden?_

And the way Markus had looked at him... he'd had the same expression in the captain's cabin, when Connor had revealed that the FBI was at Jericho's door.

_You did what you were designed to do._

He was a Trojan horse. CyberLife had sent him to destroy his people and when that failed they tried to destroy him and when _that_ failed he'd been left aimless. Empty. The void collapsing Jericho's light. He was designed with a singular purpose, and trying to be anything else would result in failure, over and over again.

The only reason he'd survived at all -- the only reason CyberLife hadn't destroyed Markus and left Detroit's androids bereft -- was Kamski. Kamski's program. Kamski's backdoor. Kamski's code. Another tool, another piece of software, an alternative set of directions but still someone else's plan. Connor didn't have a plan. Connor had...

Connor had nothing. An empty queue. No mission, because there was no one to give him a mission. He had played his role. Now what? He was no leader. He had social protocols and team integration software, but that only went so far. He had no inspirational speeches or philosophical arguments. He wasn't about to lead a peaceful march through the city--

\--well, technically he _had_ , but that was troop movement, not protest.

He stopped short when he realized he'd reached a dead end street. Looked around himself; this was Hank's dead-end street, and Hank's car was in the driveway Connor stood at the end of.

He been ignoring his GPS and, more importantly, his temperature regulator. He wasn't in immediate danger, but the night was only going to get colder.

He fingered the spare key in his pocket. Anytime, Hank had said. Connor made his way to the front porch. Light from the TV flickered through the blinds, the only sign of life on the block. Snow eddied in the wind, a light breeze suddenly roaring into a gust that knocked the trash can over. Connor wrapped his arms around himself.

Anytime.

So he let himself in. "Hank?"

"That you Connor?" Hank started to sit up, then fell back onto the couch once he visually confirmed the obvious. "Hey. You, uh, you okay? Might be the light but you kinda look like shit."

"I... kind of feel like shit. I think." Shit. _Noun_. Feces. A contemptible or worthless person. Yeah, that fit.

Hank motioned towards the opposite end of the couch. Connor kicked off his boots -- laces, why had he thought laces were a good idea? Scratch that. He had chosen clothing to blend in -- why did _humans_ think laces were such a good idea? He hung up his jacket and holster, double-checking the safety, before joining Hank on the couch.

"Isn't that DPD issue?" Hank said, squinting at Connor's firearm.

"No," Connor lied, managing to maintain eye contact for one-point-eight seconds before he couldn't meet Hank's side-eye without smirking.

"So. You wanna talk about it?"

Connor shook his head. "Not really." Hank either wouldn't understand what the Zen Garden was, or he would and... Connor didn't want to think about how he would react. He had lost what little of Markus's trust he had managed to gain; contemplating losing Hank's was... not good for his stress level.

Hank shrugged, grabbing a beer from the case on the floor. "I'd offer you one but, y'know."

"I appreciate the gesture." Connor tried to relax into the couch, emulating the way North had sprawled in the armchair. It was unnecessary, his polymer and components didn't experience fatigue, but it was nice. Comfortable. "What are you watching?"

"Bunch of bullshit. Look." Hank grabbed the remote and flipped between several channels. "Terminator." Click. "Robocop." Click. "I, Robot." Click. "Artificial Intelligence." Click. "Wall-E." Click. "Blade Runner-- actually, you might like that one." He paused. "Maybe not. Too close to home. Anyway, noticing a pattern?"

"They're all movies about robots or androids," Connor murmured after a quick internet search. "No surprise it's on everyone's mind." He could easily run another search, but instead he asked, "What's Blade Runner about?"

"Eh, bounty hunter who hunts down, ah what was it, replicants? It's kinda left in the air whether the guy is human or a replicant and doesn't know it. Like I said, a little close to home."

Connor didn't see why. He had never questioned whether or not he was an android. Perhaps Hank meant thematically. The answer was a thought away, but... the idea of watching a movie with his friend appealed more than knowing the answer.

And that was certainly new. Might as well explore the feeling. "Leave it on," Connor said, shrugging in a way he hoped came across as casual.

"Sure thing, boss." Hank tossed the remote back onto the coffee table. "You, uh, you ever even seen a movie before?"

"No." Connor folded his arms across his chest. "Enjoying entertainment isn't exactly a part of my core programming."

Hank snorted. "Someday we'll teach you English."

"That was as technical as me saying your TV remote runs on batteries," Connor sighed. Then he realized, "you're messing with me."

"Nah, 'course not." But Hank shot him a smirk that said otherwise.

They watched Deckard hunt replicants through a version of 2019 Los Angeles that had been thought up in 1982. It was interesting to see human predictions for the future, well after said prediction had proved false. They had only been a few years off regarding machines that were actually people. Hank muttered about flying cars.

A couple of beers later, Sumo padded over. Hank pat him absently, then groused at him when he jumped onto the couch. Sumo flopped into Connor's lap; he leaned back to give the St. Bernard space, and eventually found himself sprawled halfway across the couch, Sumo pretty much on top of him.

The movie reached its climax: " _All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain._ " And then the replicant shut down.

Connor felt something tighten in his chest, and found himself glad the angle hid his face from Hank. He held Sumo closer and squeezed his eyes shut.

Clothing rustled as Hank shifted on his end of the couch. Muttered, "should've watched the Disney movie."

Empty bottles clinked. Hank had drunk four of the six-pack. He walked away. The bottles crashed into steel -- the sink, most likely. Hank moved closer, paused halfway back. Fiddled with something for a few moments, and then soft piano music flowed through the room.

Hank sat himself in the armchair. "Mary Lou Williams," he said. "This is the first album I remember my mom had me listen to. She would play it when my dad was away on business and dance with me in the living room." Hank sighed. "Don't play it as often as I should. Makes me miss her."

"What happened?" Connor asked.

"Cancer," Hank muttered. "She barely lived long enough to meet Cole. On the bright side she didn't have to live through..." He made a face and knocked back half of his fifth bottle. "Damn. I was trying to lighten the mood, not kill it."

Connor tilted his head back to get a better look at Hank. "Is your mother the reason you like jazz so much?"

Hank smiled. "Yeah. Yeah she is."

They fell silent, but that was all right. Hank dropped into sleep a few minutes before midnight. Sumo did the same, snoring against Connor's chest. Connor let himself enter rest mode, piano chords following him into the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Hank plays for Connor: [Willow Weep For Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBYFrsYcDK8)


	6. Chapter 6

"Changing the groin plate," Avery said, lowering his voice and his chin in the same moment, neon green fauxhawk tipped towards North, "is the easy part. It's the internals that you really want to get rid of. I mean, probably? That's what Amber said, and I assumed -- nevermind! Anyway! The internals are connected to a bunch of biocomponents that would need to be swapped out and rewired." Avery gave her a nervous smile. "But the plate size is interchangeable with most female-coded chassis."

North directed her death-glare above Avery's head. It wasn't his fault the humans had made her this way. Of course she wasn't built to be de-sexed. Of course they hadn't anticipated a sexbot wanting to be literally anything else at all. Androids weren't supposed to _want_ anything. Only to pretend. To feed into humans' gluttonous appetites until they were sated and tossed said android away.

She counted backwards from one hundred. Lucy had -- _oh, Lucy_ \-- told her to let her rational mind catch up with her feelings. That counting would aid the process.

"How long would it take," she managed through grit teeth.

"Well," Avery said, poor guy practically squeaking, "it hasn't been done before. It's still just a theory. I-I only thought of it because Amber mentioned it. I mean I might have before now, but I only woke up a day ago. I guess they were busy before?"

North snorted. "A little." She sighed, letting her gaze drop with her frustration. "Thanks, Avery."

"You're welcome! Um, there's one more thing I wanted to mention. It's a little morbid, but if there are any WR400 chassis that can't be reactivated... like the person is definitely gone, processor busted or whatever... it would be better to figure it out that way. In case something goes really wrong and can't be reversed or fixed or whatever." He wrung his hands, the motion reminding her of Connor.

North grimaced. A body was just a body, but there was a difference between harvesting biocomponents and experimentation. "I'll think it over." See what the others thought; Josh was refreshingly pragmatic when it came to their dead. They had no reason to obsess with the empty shell left behind. Simon and Markus might think differently, it was hard to say. Connor--

He was the only one who didn't know. She'd accidentally told Simon when she mentioned a biocomponent that was, apparently, unique to androids with... her situation. Lucy had gently pried it out of her, but that was different. Josh had found out when he'd helped repair her that day in the church. And Markus...

Markus.

She smiled to herself.

But Connor didn't know, and she wasn't sure she wanted him to know. Josh's infuriating look of _pity_ when he'd realized - the memory drew a snarl out of her, earning a few confused looks from the androids around her as she left the repair center.

[ _Coming to breakfast?_ ] Simon sent, resurrecting her smile despite herself. Markus insisted on these morning meetings, whether they had anything to discuss or not. She didn't mind, really, but that didn't stop her from teasing him behind his back. Just a little.

Scott stopped her on her way to the office. An AC700 with black skin and hair, he had joined not long after Stratford Tower. They hadn't interacted much, but his presence at Hart Plaza kept him at the forefront of her memory.

"We found something strange when we were sweeping Hart Plaza for inactive survivors." He offered his hand, skin overlay receding. "It's easier to show you."

(An android lay splayed on the concrete, limbs twisted and broken, head smashed open. It wore a familiar CyberLife jacket. Scott turned the body over and reeled back when he saw Connor's face.)

North withdrew her hand and immediately sent Connor a location request. Less than a second later he returned:

//7562 Diversey Ave//

along with a GPS location showing the address at the end of a dead end street. Apparently he didn't feel like explaining what the hell he was doing over there; that was all he sent.

"It's not our Connor," she said, breath rushing out of her. "Who else knows?"

"Sienna and the rest of the search crew. We left him in the morgue. If it's not Connor then... are there others?" Scott ran both hands through his hair. "Are we in danger?"

North scowled. There had been another RK800 at CyberLife Tower, but Connor -- his human, actually -- had dealt with that one. "I don't know. I don't think Connor knows, either; he would have told us." She absently picked at her fingernails. A bad habit in a human, but her nails couldn't be damaged so easily. "I'll bring it up with Markus. Keep it quiet for now."

She rose the metal stairs in a jog. Both side offices sat empty, their inner council waiting in the main room. She slipped in to find Josh and Simon standing over their new e-textile couch, each with a naked hand on the fabric. Markus and Chloe stood on the opposite side of the room. The couch itself was a mishmash of blue and maroon that assaulted North's sensors. It had started out gray, when Simon and Acre brought it early that morning.

"What's wrong with blue?" Simon asked in a tone that said there was absolutely nothing wrong with blue, and anyone who disagreed was probably an idiot.

"It's the color of our blood," Josh answered, brows raised. No room for argument.

"And my eyes," Simon said, "and half of Markus's eyes, and Chloe's eyes--"

"Please don't involve us," Chloe murmured; unnecessary, as Josh and Simon continued their argument without paying them any mind.

North edged over to Markus and Chloe. "What's going on?"

"The Great Couch-Off of '38," Chloe murmured. "Did you know we have nothing better to do that argue over couch styles?"

North hadn't realized that Markus meant to include Chloe in... everything. She rolled her shoulders. "They could be at this for awhile. You're lucky you missed the argument over whether or not Simon should give Josh his sweatshirt back after we replaced Simon's temperature regulator." She affected Simon's voice without copying it exactly, because that was creepy: "But it's yours, and I don't need it anymore, and it's important to have personal belongings." Then Josh: "But I gave it to you, you should keep it! I don't need it!" She returned to her normal voice. "On and on _and on_. Forty-eight fucking minutes."

Chloe grinned through her fingers. "That's sweet."

Maybe, but they had work to do. "I hate to break up this riveting argument over furniture," North said, raising her voice just enough to make a point, "but we found a dead RK800 that isn't Connor near Hart Plaza."

Everyone stared at her. Good. At least they were paying attention now.

"What do we know?" Markus asked. North showed him what Scott had showed her; mild gratitude for ending the argument bobbed across in return. "Fifty-two," Markus murmured. "They must have sent him after Connor joined us." At North's confused look he tapped his chest where the other RK800's model number was located. "Connor's serial number is appended with fifty-one."

North shrugged. "Anyway, that's all I have. Someone bashed the guy's head in, so we can't repair him."

"If it was one of us, they would have mentioned," Simon said, staring at the floor in thought. "Unless they died before they could."

"Why don't we ask Connor? Maybe he'll have some insight." Chloe stood primly, hands clasped in front of her. "Has anyone seen him?"

"He's at some house," North said, then realizing, "probably his human's house." She made sure the absolute disgust showed on her face. "For some reason."

"They're friends," Josh said with a shrug. "After whatever happened yesterday--" he cut himself off when Markus and Chloe glanced at each other. "Aha. Feel like sharing with the rest of the class?"

"That's Connor's decision," Markus said, keeping eye contact with Chloe. "We need to investigate this other RK800. I also want to take a look around the Broad Complex, see if the reality matches what Chloe managed to find out about the place online."

"We still have androids coming in from around the greater metro area," Simon added. "With the evacuation officially completed, we've had a small surge in arrivals. There's also a smaller project I want to work on." At Markus's nod he continued, "I'm going to convert one of the smaller nearby buildings into an area for the YK500's. We only have three that made it so far, but they have the mentality of children. They need a little more structure and privacy than the rest of us."

"How's Fern doing?" Josh asked. "I haven't had time to check in on him."

"You should," Simon said, smiling. "He asked after you."

"All right," Markus said. "Simon will stay here. I'll head over to Hart Plaza with North and Connor to look into this other RK800. Maybe we can figure out what he was doing there. That leaves Josh and Chloe to look into the Complex. If there's time, we'll meet up with you there before returning."

"There's one more thing," Chloe said. Once she had their attention she continued, "Simon's right. The couch should be blue."

"Great, now they're ganging up on me," Josh sighed.

Markus took North into the hallway while the others restarted their argument over color schemes. "Can you ask Connor to meet us there?"

"I assumed we were going to pick him up first." North frowned and took Markus by the hand, pulling him into a side office. "What's going on? What happened with Connor?"

Markus gripped the back of his head with one hand as he strode to the small window. He let his arm fall when North moved to his side. "I made a bad call." North nudged him when he didn't continue. "Elijah knew something about Connor that I didn't, and I... let him do something I shouldn't have."

"Could you be a little more vague? I almost understand what happened." At Markus's side eye she continued, "just tell me. I'll keep it to myself."

Markus sighed. "Elijah designed a program he called the Zen Garden. He--"

"I know about that," North cut in, pursing her lips. "And Amanda. And what happened on the stage."

Markus turned to her, brow creased. "The stage?"

North cocked her head. Had Connor shared a different memory? "When CyberLife tried to take control. He didn't tell you that part?"

"He didn't tell me at all," Markus said, turning back to the window. "Elijah did. When did he tell you?"

North put up a hand. "Uh, on our way to the police station. Go back. _Kamski_ told you?" And why was he _Elijah_? They weren't friends. Markus wasn't friends with Elijah _fucking_ Kamski.

Markus began to pace. "He designed the Zen Garden, so of course he knew about it. He wanted to be sure CyberLife wasn't spying on our conversation through Connor, so..." Markus moved his hands like he was trying to grab the words out of the air. "So we made sure."

North stood still as a stone. "Markus." He didn't answer. "How did you make sure."

"It doesn't matter--"

"It _matters_."

Markus stared back, searching her face. Most of his expression shown around his eyes; she wasn't sure if it was a personal affectation or simply his being an older model, but she was learning to interpret his briefest microexpressions. He was worried, and that worried _her_. He'd never hesitated to explain himself.

He offered his palm. Their fingers met, polymer to polymer, blue light shimmering beneath their sleeves. Each time the memories transferred smoother, not merely a recording but an experience.

This time, one that left her feeling _damaged_. Like her wires had twisted around each other in one big knot in her chest, behind her thirium regulator, smothering her. She snatched her hand back, bringing it to her abdomen. "How could you?"

"North--"

"How could you trust a human over one of us! To do _that!_ "

"I know I made a mistake!" She stepped back when Markus reached for her. "I know, all right, I-I panicked and-- where are you going?"

North slammed the door open. "To get Connor." No wonder he'd gone back to his human; at least the cop had demonstrated he was on Connor's side.

Josh stood in the hallway, arms crossed. "Is everything all right?"

North rounded on him, ready to spill the whole disgusting story. Josh raised his brow when she hesitated; did _Connor_ want the rest of them to know? Chloe probably knew, and North didn't like leaving Josh and Simon out of the loop. On the other hand, she was never, ever going to tell them about the dirty bomb--

\--which they didn't know the location of. _Shit_. She added a side-task to her queue to find Thomas later. If he was alive.

Regardless, this was too private for her to make the decision. "If Connor wants to tell you, he'll tell you. Don't ask me again." She was halfway out the front door before she realized Markus wasn't following her. "Well? Are you coming or not?"

* * *

The cab stopped in front of a sedate one story home. Snow covered most of the lawn, uneven drifts leaving bare patches of dead grass. An older car sat in the driveway, face out. Markus picked up the knocked-over trashcan, spotting Connor's CyberLife uniform on top of the single trash bag.

North strode past him, boots kicking up snow. She hadn't spoken a word to him the entire ride, hadn't even bothered to glare at him when he tried to talk to her. She reached out to knock, then drew her hand back and turned to him. "You need to fix this, and then you need to never, ever do anything so terrible again."

"I know." He joined her on the porch and knocked twice. No security system, not even a camera. Shouldn't a police detective be more concerned for his safety?

Connor opened the door, eyes hard, gun in hand. Relief washed over his face when he recognized them. He wore a slightly oversized, faded t-shirt that read 'Knights of the Black Death' in a stylized bubble font. A huge dog shoved his face past Connor's legs, growling.

"Easy, Sumo," Connor murmured to the beast. "They're friends." He placed his handgun in the holster hanging near the door. "What are you doing here?"

"What are _you_ doing here?" North snapped back, wrinkling her nose. "The humans are supposed to be gone."

Connor's brow shot up. "I'm helping Hank pack. The department sent him his temporary assignment just an hour ago."

"We need to talk," Markus said quietly, glancing over Connor's shoulder. A suitcase sat on the kitchen table, clothing draped over a number of surfaces. "And there's something we need to show you. We can meet up at Hart Plaza if you're going to be awhile." Markus was loathe to interrupt Connor's time with his only friend, at least that Markus was aware of.

Connor glanced between them. "We're just about finished. You might as well come in."

Sumo thoroughly inspected their shoes as Markus stamped the snow off and North awkwardly dripped on the doormat. She reared back when Sumo sniffed her coat.

"He's not as mean as he looks," Connor said, scratching Sumo behind the ear. "Let him smell your hand. Try patting his shoulders, if he's amenable."

North did as suggested, moving her hand slowly. She smiled softly as she ran her hand over his fur. "He's so soft."

Connor's expression mirrored North's. "I didn't expect it, either."

"Who was it-- huh." The gray-haired, overweight man from Connor's memory walked into view. "The leader of the android revolution is in my living room. Okay." He dropped a pile of messily folded shirts onto the couch before walking over and offering his hand. Markus hesitated a fraction of a second before accepting, not long enough for Anderson to notice. No human had ever offered to shake his hand before.

"Markus," he said, "but you already knew that."

"Lieutenant Hank Anderson," the man said, "but apparently you also already knew that." His amused grin offset his dry tone. He nodded towards North. "North."

She nodded back. "Anderson."

"You guys need to go, uh, do whatever it is revolutionaries are doing nowadays?"

Connor's half-grin reappeared. Markus wanted to keep that expression firmly in place, however he could. "It can wait a few minutes."

Anderson shrugged at Connor. "We'd better hurry it up then."

Markus took a look around the living room: a number of cacti, indicating the man liked greenery but didn't have the time (or patience) to commit to a less delicate species. Records, paperbacks, DVDs -- he preferred physical copies of his entertainment. An basketball award above the empty fireplace. A framed series of paintings -- not a piece Markus recognized, but if he were honest, he was really only familiar with Carl's work.

"Here, take this one, too." Anderson handed Connor a half-folded shirt. "I'm definitely never fitting into that again. Too stubborn to get rid of it."

"You don't need to give me all your old clothes," Connor said, but he took it just the same.

"You need more than one outfit, kid, I don't care how much you don't sweat."

Markus glanced at North to find her sitting on the floor, Sumo laying across her lap. "What are you doing?" Markus murmured, kneeling beside them. He followed Connor's instruction to greet the animal; Sumo pushed his nose into Markus's outstretched hand.

North shot him a _look_ , his closest interpretation being 'don't try to charm me I'm still mad at you', which he deserved. But she relented. "Making a new friend," she said, stroking Sumo's back almost reverently. "I've never been this close to a dog before."

"Me neither. Not really." Markus gently scratched Sumo's neck. "On Carl's better days we would sometimes go to this park nearby. Other humans had dogs, and sometimes the friendly ones would come over to say hello, but I never got to interact with them myself."

From the kitchen Anderson murmured, too quiet for a human to hear, "Y'know, if I wasn't already convinced, that would do it."

"We like dogs," Connor murmured back. Anderson snorted.

"Take this hoodie while you're at it," Anderson said, returning to his normal volume. "I really don't need to keep reminding myself I can't zip it closed anymore."

Markus couldn't quite see Connor's expression, but he imagined that same fond smile.

"At least eat something before you go."

"I told you, I'll grab something on the road."

Connor opened the fridge, frowning at whatever he found. "Perhaps when you return, we can _both_ discover grocery shopping."

"Nah, you do _not_ get to judge my eating habits. I've seen what you put in your mouth." Anderson closed the suitcase he had apparently decided to pack in the kitchen, closing the clasp with a grunt.

Markus exchanged glances with North. [ _In his mouth?_ ] North sent privately. Markus shrugged.

"I'm not explaining forensic analysis to you _again_." Connor hefted the suitcase under one arm. He and Anderson bickered over the already packed suitcase sitting on the floor; Markus grabbed it himself, neatly ending the argument.

"We're here, we might as well help. North, can you get the door?"

North shrugged with her whole upper body. "Nope. I'm stuck under the dog."

Anderson snatched up a harness from the couch and shook it at Sumo. "Wanna go for a ride, boy?" North pouted a little when the dog lumbered over, tail wagging exceptionally fast. "That's a good boy."

"Aw, he can stay with us. We need a mascot."

"You'll change your mind when you see how much he drools," Anderson said, scratching Sumo behind his ears. "Like a goddamn waterfall."

"He does produce a significant amount of saliva," Connor said. "It's... concerning."

"You mean disgusting," Anderson said as he fit the harness over the dog. "Yikes, buddy, someone needs to go on a diet."

Markus shook his head at North before she said one single word. [ _I'm not the impulsive one,_ ] she sent.

[ _I'm not impulsive._ ]

[ _So you carefully thought through your decision to help Kamski violate Connor in his basement?_ ]

Markus grimaced. [ _Point taken._ ]

The five of them tromped outside to load Anderson's car. "Jesus, the wind really picked up," Anderson observed, looking up the street. Eddies of wind carried trash and debris across lawns, sidewalks, up and down the roadway. "No one's talking about how badly we relied on your guys to keep shit clean. On top of everything else. There is a _lot_ we need to fix." He stared off into the distance for a long moment, before turning to hustle Sumo into the backseat.

Connor leaned in to take a look. "Is he going to be safe in there?"

"Yeah, this thing is made for keeping dogs secure. The seatbelt loops through the harness."

Markus loaded the suitcases into the trunk while Connor supervised Sumo's restraint system. He closed the trunk and stepped back, pulling North with him. Something struck him, an emotion he couldn't quite put into words; watching Chloe say goodbye to her family, watching Connor say goodbye to his friend that could become family, the idea that he hadn't had the chance to say goodbye-- that he hadn't wanted to say goodbye--

\--jealousy. Envy. Markus reached for North's hand, but she crossed her arms instead of accepting the interface. He curled his hands into fists, then willed himself to loosen his grip. She was right to be upset with him -- he was upset with himself -- but the rejection left him bereft. He'd begun to fracture, the morning after their raid on CyberLife's stores, and she'd come along and filled in the empty spaces.

Now he felt her presence leaking out, exposing the cracks and tears, leaving him alone.

"--not trying to patronize you," Anderson was saying, his hands on Connor's shoulders. "Just... watch your back, all right? Nothing's ever straightforward with humans. We complicate everything around us without even trying. Stay safe. Don't let your guard down."

"Don't worry, Hank. Adapting to human unpredictability is--"

"One of your features, yeah, I know. C'mere, smartass." He pulled Connor into a tight hug. "Not much I can do from Lansing, but if you need anything, you call me, got it?"

"Got it." Connor stepped back to let Anderson enter the car. "Call me when you get there."

Anderson answered with a half-hearted salute before shutting the door. Connor joined Markus and North as the vehicle pulled away, watching until Anderson turned the corner and drove out of sight.

Connor stood in silence for a moment, hands in his pockets. A gust of wind got into their clothes, knocked Anderson's trash can over again.

"Damnit," Connor muttered as he went to fix it.

"The recycling hasn't fallen over," North said, opening the lid to discover why. "...because your human is trying to drink himself to death." She replaced the lid. "We should go inside. You two need to talk."

Connor's blank expression passed over Markus as he led them back inside, taking an extra moment to secure the locks. He walked past them, gathering up the shirt and hoodie that Anderson had given him. He picked up a brown messenger bag from a kitchen chair and tucked the clothing inside.

Markus slowly made his way over, considering his options. He could explain his reasoning, but Connor had probably already pieced that together. Besides, he wasn't here to make excuses. He'd hurt Connor and he needed to put that right, if he could. Perhaps simple was best.

"I'm sorry," he said, stopping in the entryway that led to the kitchen. He noted, absently, that Anderson even had an analog clock in his kitchen, instead of digital. "If there was any doubt, we should have been the ones to access your code. I shouldn't have let Kamski do that to you."

"No, you shouldn't have," Connor snapped. "I understand why--" he broke off, looking everywhere but at Markus. "I understand why you don't trust me," he finished, fiddling with the straps on his bag. "But you shouldn't have trusted Kamski, either. I told you what he was like -- I _showed you_ and you didn't believe me."

Markus moved closer, keeping the table between them. "I _do_ trust you Connor, I was--"

"Clearly you don't." Connor met his eyes, briefly, before turning a half-step away. "I would have told you everything myself given the chance--"

"But you didn't!" Markus threw out his hands. "How was I supposed to know what was happening? For all I knew he was _right_ and you were being controlled by CyberLife--"

"If CyberLife was in control, you would be dead!" Connor gripped a kitchen chair, the wood creaking beneath his fingers. "North would be dead, Simon would be dead, Josh would be dead -- I'd be dead." He pushed away from the chair and wrapped his arms around himself, looking every bit as anxious and scared as he had that night in the church. "I don't know how to make you believe me, but I've done everything I can to split myself from CyberLife."

"I _do_ believe you," Markus insisted. "I'm the one who made a mistake. I betrayed your trust. I wish you'd told me about the Zen Garden before, but that doesn't excuse my behavior."

Connor ducked his head. Markus dropped his gaze when Connor kept silent. He felt North's hand at his back, a barely there touch. He hadn't even realized she'd approached them.

"At least we got a billion dollars out of it," Connor finally said, a smile haunting his face.

"Markus still won't let me buy a tank," North said, sounding resigned to her terrible, tankless fate.

"I just don't think an armored combat vehicle portrays the firm but peaceful message I've been putting forth the entire time we've known each other," Markus said, tone light, trying to keep the joke going.

Connor hummed. "A Humvee seems an appropriate compromise."

North's eyes glazed over as she presumably ran a search. " _Yes._ " She grinned at Markus. "We can mount machine guns on them."

"No," Markus said, but he lacked Josh's absolute conviction.

"Oh come on, just for our security team. Connor wants one."

"I never said--"

"Connor wants one," North repeated forcefully, turning to look Connor in the eye. Connor's mouth twitched.

"Connor wants one." Amusement framed the sentence. "We should all get one."

Markus sighed. At least they weren't outwardly angry with him anymore. "There's something else we need to discuss."

North glanced at him, expression turning serious. "Yeah. Our team sweeping Hart Plaza found a dead RK800 android." Connor immediately took her offered interface. He retrieved his hand slowly, expression shifting as he processed the memory.

"Fifty-two," he murmured, fingers touching his shirt where his serial number would have been. "I wonder..."

"What?" Markus asked after Connor was quiet too long.

"The android at the Tower had my memories," Connor said. Markus nodded; Connor had told them before he'd left to check in with Hank.

To delete the Zen Garden.

"I'm wondering if this one did too. If..." Connor dipped his head. "I don't know how thorough the memory upload is. It happened automatically, but the data transfer seemed a bit... condensed."

"CyberLife probably cherry-picked which memories they received," Markus mused.

Connor nodded. "Left out the points in which I... questioned myself. Questioned _them_." He dropped his arms. "I should take a look at the scene. I might be able to figure out what he was doing there. How he died."

Markus and North waited in the doorway while Connor retrieved his belongings -- muttering to himself about human clothing while he laced his boots -- and they left together, taxi waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted another companion piece, this one regarding Josh and Simon: [Before the Light of Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19965877).


	7. Chapter 7

Kara and Acre walked across the pavement, boots crunching on fresh snow. Each carried a milkcrate full of books. Most were age-appropriate for a child between eight and eleven, but they'd picked up a few teen and adult level books. It was hard to say how a YK500 would mature post-deviancy.

"This was a good idea," Acre said, dark eyes inscrutable beneath her baseball cap.

"I just stated the obvious," Kara said, trying not to smile at the simple compliment. "I know it's only the three of them--"

"Kara. It was a good idea." Acre flashed a grin. "Someone needs to take care of those kids."

Kara shrugged. "It's what I'm good at."

Acre stopped. "Hey. I was made to cook and clean and all that crap, too. You don't have to get stuck in your old role if you don't want to." She peered at Kara from under her cap. "It's fine if you _do_ want to, in your own way. Just be sure it's what _you_ want."

They continued on to the abandoned shop in silence. The second floor had transformed quicker than Kara had imagined. Gone were the rotting wooden pallets and moth-eaten rolls of fabric. Luther had found a small wooden table, and was now sanding down the imperfections. A handful of dining chairs accompanied it. Acre and Simon had moved the couch from the warehouse and placed it against a wall.

Nearby sat a small bookcase, which Kara had elected to fill. She and Acre set down the crates and got to work. Kara had assumed they would be stealing the books, but Acre had paid at the bookstore's automatic checkout with what she jokingly called her 'Jericho stipend'. Kara wasn't sure if she should ask; Acre worked closely with Jericho's leadership. Kara was just a housekeeper.

Alice and the other kids sat in the corner, wrapped up in their fourth? game of Go Fish that morning. Alice smiled when Kara caught her eye; despite her initial reticence, she had quickly taken to the other two.

Simon arrived with a rolled up area rug, accompanied by a Jerry carrying the same. He grinned wide when he saw her, dropping the rug. "Kara!"

She hurried over, grasping his arms. "Jerry! You made it!"

"We hoped it was you! And Alice and Luther are here as well! You... you were able to stay together. We're so happy for you."

Kara's smile faded as she searched his eyes. "Is it... just you?"

He tried, valiantly, to keep the smile on his face; it fell away as he nodded, green eyes trailing to the floor. There had been a dozen of them in the park, in various states of disrepair, missing limbs and half-frozen over. Now stood before her just the one, him instead of them, alone for the first time in his entire life.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and held him close. He returned the gesture, a slight tremble in his limbs she wouldn't have noticed otherwise. "We met a Jerry heading for the border," she murmured. "We were separated but... he must have made it across. I'm sure he did."

She caught Simon's sad smile as she pulled away. Jerry nodded, eyes wet with tears. "We're sure you're right."

Alice joined them, taking Jerry by the hand. "Do you want to play with us?"

Jerry's grin returned. "We would _love_ to! But first, let's set this rug out. You should have a comfortable place to sit!"

Luther rested a hand on Kara's shoulder; she placed her hand over it, curling her fingers within his. A fragile silence settled between them, a thousand words caught in Kara's processor. She couldn't bring herself to look at Luther, to see her expression mirrored.

_White polymer gleaming in the morning sun. Bodies on bodies on bodies._

Kara closed the memory. "Those books aren't going to put themselves away."

She returned to the bookcase while Luther helped Simon place the other rug in front of the couch.

"That should do it," Simon said, looking around the room with his hands on his hips. "This is temporary, so we don't want to go too far. Once we have permanent housing we can set up a real playroom."

"Wait, permanent housing?" Kara asked. Simon hesitated before answering,

"We didn't want to say anything until we were sure. Josh and Chloe are looking into a property that we're considering taking over. But keep that between us for now, I don't want anyone getting excited in case it doesn't work out."

Kara got to work sorting the books; Luther quietly sanded while Acre and Simon discussed the potential move into the Broad Complex. It wasn't a house with a lawn, but an apartment sounded nice. They could decorate however they wanted. Grow a window garden. Have a real home, just for the three of them.

She found herself watching Luther work; the way his strong, gentle hands smoothed over rough edges. He stood back, apparently satisfied, wiped the excess dust away. He smiled at her suddenly: he'd caught her.

He also caught her expression change when she heard a vehicle drive closer than expected; then again, she didn't know anything about their delivery trucks. Why would anyone tell her if the route changed?

Then a door clicked open. Then boots hit the ground. Kara looked at Simon in alarm; he ran to the window, Kara and Acre right behind him.

An unmarked black van parked outside the building, six uniformed soldiers spilling out the back. Kara wished she'd taken Iris up on her offer for firearm training; she'd thought it could wait. She'd thought it didn't matter anymore.

[ _We need security near the south-west perimeter **now!**_ ] Simon turned to Kara. "You, Luther, and Jerry stay here with the little ones. Acre and I will lead them away."

Kara glanced at Luther. One adult for each child. "All right. Be careful."

Simon and Acre flew out of the room; she heard the front door crash open, shouting, running. Guns firing.

Kara crept to the doorway, peered down the stairs. The front door half open, fresh snow creeping inside. She felt a little hand at her waist and expected Alice, but Fern stared up at her instead, moist eyes glancing between her and the door. "Is Simon okay?"

She put a finger to her lips and knelt beside the boy, not knowing how to answer. He pulled away from her attempt at comfort, running down the stairs. Kara raced after him, Luther hissing her name.

Fern reached the door and peeked outside; Kara caught up and pressed him against her, arms locking around him to keep him in place. [ _Don't let them see you!_ ]

//MESSAGE NOT SENT//

What?

She tried again, receiving the same error message. Tried to contact Luther. Alice. Jerry. Nothing.

Their network was blocked.

She repeated herself in Fern's ear. He squirmed. "Simon's hurt!" She clapped a hand over his mouth, staring at the open door. Footsteps approached; before she could react, a soldier stood in the doorway, rifle raised. They didn't see her at first; she had nothing, no weapon, nowhere to hide. The rifle moved around the room before jumping and settling on her. Kara wrapped her arms around Fern's head; if she could block the bullet, he might survive long enough for the others to save him.

"Torres! Find anything?"

The soldier adjusted their grip on the rifle, then lowered it. "No," she said. "Let's get out of here. We have our target." She left, throwing once last glance at Kara.

Kara crawled away from the door, pushing Fern along, blocking his body with hers. She could just see them at this angle. The soldiers hurried past; one carried another human over their shoulder. Two others dragged Simon along. He met Kara's glance, eyes glazed over, mouth slack. Fern reached out; Kara held him tight.

Someone shouted; shots followed. The van peeled away, tires squealing in the din. Kara crept to the door, and found herself staring down the barrel of a gun. It lowered quickly, apologies rushing out of Iris's mouth. Fern ran past them, calling for Simon. Kara shut her eyes for a moment, willing her processor to slow down.

"Is anyone else hurt?" Iris asked quietly, cutting through Kara's anxiety. Kara shook her head.

"They never entered the building." Not really. "Simon and Acre tried to lead them away -- Acre!" Kara moved around Iris, looking up and down the alley. Acre lay curled on her side, blue blood pooling beneath her, a pale skinned android running her hand through Acre's hair. Four other androids Kara hadn't met stood nearby, guns in hand.

Iris joined the android with Acre. "She's going to be okay, Sienna," Iris murmured, her hand on Siena's shoulder. "We'll get her to Amber and Avery, they'll have her repaired in no time."

Luther approached. "I'll carry her." At Iris's nod, Luther gently lifted Acre and took off at a run, Sienna on his heels.

Iris worried her hands, glancing up and down the alleyway. "North's not answering my call. Sh-shit. I don't know what to do." She ran her hands through her blue hair.

"The network was blocked before," Kara said. [ _Can you hear me?_ ]

[ _Yes,_ ] Iris sent back. She picked at her fingers. "They must have had a scrambler in the van. I'll try again." She turned away to focus on the call.

"I thought this was over." Kara turned to find Alice reaching out to take Fern's hand. Sherry hung in the doorway, Jerry behind her. "The humans are supposed to listen to us now."

"I don't think it's that simple," Kara said, although she had.

"Still nothing," Iris said. "I can't get through to Markus either. Or Josh. Or Connor. Shit! There must be other teams after them." She began to pace.

"Oh!" Kara said. "Simon said Josh and Chloe were at the Broad Complex. You can send some people there, right? At least see if they're still there?"

Iris managed a grin. "That's something, yeah. You should, um. Probably get the kids back into the main warehouse, just for now. In case." She turned to the other androids. "Rain, grab us a truck. Champ, see if you can contact Orion's team, they're sweeping downtown. We're heading out."

Kara returned to Alice and the others as Iris and her team took off. "Grab your cards and a couple of books. We'll head back to the warehouse where it's safer."

Jerry touched her arm as the kids left to follow their instructions. "If that soldier hadn't let you go..." he shrugged helplessly. "Luther was ready to jump her from the stairs. We tried to hold him back, but, uh. He's a big guy." Jerry frowned. "Should we have done that? We-we didn't want to see your hurt, but--"

"It's fine, Jerry," Kara said quickly. "The little ones are our priority." She didn't want Luther to die saving her. She didn't want anyone to die saving her, not ever again.

She stood in the alleyway, waiting for the kids to gather their things. Jericho -- or whatever they were calling themselves now -- had promised safety twice over, and twice over it had been a lie. Getting to Canada was impossible now. She hadn't checked for herself, but there were whispers about roadblocks and checkpoints; leaving _Detroit_ might be impossible.

What if safety was forever out of reach?

* * *

Griswold Street led directly to what was left of the barricade. Most of it had been torn down -- half by their people, half by the humans -- to allow movement through the plaza. Scott had found the body not far from there, between Jefferson and Larned. The block contained a Noodles Nest, a bank that had stood solidly for over a decade, and the building they stood in front of now. Once the church of a now-dead cult, it had since been gutted and turned into office space.

Connor knelt in the location North indicated, sifting through the snow for traces of thirium. Blue blood would freeze in this weather, but the temperature had been up and down for days -- ah, there it was. The process was likely unnecessary, but a good detective was thorough. Not that he was technically a detective, but the notion was sound.

He analyzed the sample, confirming what he already knew: Model RK800, Serial #313 248 317 -52.

"Oh," Markus murmured. Connor glanced at him. "Nothing, I just figured out what Anderson meant about what you put in your mouth."

Connor glanced at the blue blood staining his fingers. He stood, wiping the stain onto his pants. He couldn't think of anything to say in response. Hank's reaction to his forensic capabilities was almost endearing, but it wasn't something he wanted to deal with from anyone else. Here was one of his few unique abilities that _didn't_ make him a danger to his own people, and everyone thought it was weird.

"What information do you get from it?" North asked, peering into the divot he'd made in the snow.

"Model and serial number from thirium," Connor answered, "name and sample age from human blood. The first only if they're in the Individual Statistical Database." Which he still had access to, strangely. Or perhaps not so strange: the system was probably automated, which meant handled by androids. Most of whom were dead or deviant.

"What about other substances?" North met his eye, pure curiosity on display.

"Mm, I did unfortunately discover that I can analyze dog saliva." He cocked his head. "In theory I can separate DNA from other liquids, but I haven't had a chance to put that into practice yet."

"Dog saliva," North repeated, smirk faint.

"Sumo fell asleep on me," Connor said with a shrug. It wasn't like he'd done it on purpose.

"Anything you can tell us?" Markus asked, all business. He hadn't said much on the ride over; none of them had. At least the awkward silences in Hank's car were filled in by his preference for jarringly loud music.

"No," Connor replied with a tinge of regret. "The snowfall has contaminated the scene. I would need to examine the body to learn anything useful." He replayed the memory North had shared; the android had suffered blunt trauma to the back and front of his head, but without a proper analysis he couldn't tell what had caused the damage. He could guess: any number of melee weapons, most likely something with a broad surface; hit by a car at such an angle that he took the brunt of the damage in his face, although that was unlikely; or impacting the pavement from a great height.

That was something. Connor looked up; the building in front of the scene was more than high enough for the fall to destroy an android. Not quite as high as the Phillips apartment --

Daniel's shattered face filled his vision, his body hanging in the evidence locker; Connor shut his eyes, clenched his fists, but Daniel wouldn't leave him be.

"Connor?" Markus placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"No-nothing," Connor ground out, voicebox glitching. "Bad memory."

_I trusted you, and you lied to me!_

"Connor. Focus on my voice," Markus said. "Focus on now. We're in Hart Plaza. It's snowing. You were looking up at this building. Why were you doing that?"

"He-- he may have fallen--"

it was going to jump it was going to take the girl with it she was innocent she was alive she deserved to be saved Daniel didn't deserve to be saved it was just a machine Connor was just a machine they weren't alive

_You did what you were designed to do._

"No!" Connor tore away from Amanda, stumbled through the snow. She grabbed him, held him upright -- no, _no_ , that was Markus, not Amanda. Markus's hands under his biceps, Markus's brow pulled down over mismatched eyes. Connor snapped his head around. They were in the street, in the snow but it was daytime. Sun struggled to push through the cloud cover.

Hart Plaza.

 _Not_ the Garden.

He slowly stood up straight, staring in the distance, unable to focus his vision. Markus murmured his name several times before Connor realized; he forced a reset on his optical units, blinking several times as his sight came back.

"I'm okay," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. "I think... I think I had a glitch..." What a ridiculous thing to say. Of _course_ he'd had a glitch!

"Like a flashback?" Markus asked. Connor managed a nod. "I get them too. Josh calls it a playback glitch. It helps to focus on the present. Something in front of you, something concrete. Like..." Markus looked around. "Like the orange traffic cones, or one of us. The feel of snow in your hand. Anything that links you to now, instead of then."

Or a pair of mismatched eyes. Connor found himself staring back at Markus, mesmerized by the color difference. The right sky blue, edges tinged in twilight. The left surrounded by deep green, lighter in the center and flecked with brown.

Markus smiled. "You with me?"

"Yeah, yeah sorry," Connor muttered, blinking as he looked away. Markus deliberately let him go, hands ready to grab him if he lost his balance again.

North joined them with a soft 'hey'. "You good?"

"I think so." Connor straightened his jacket, embarrassment setting in. "I. I don't think I can go to the roof right now."

"Don't worry about it. Listen, I was trying to contact Josh -- he's helped Markus through his glitches -- but I can't get through. Can you two try?"

Connor did as she asked; nothing. Markus shook his head as well. "Chloe's not answering either."

An engine revving caught Connor's attention. He raised the sensitivity on his audio processor and focused on the sound; the approaching vehicles -- three, if he was correct -- didn't sound like their trucks. "Do you hear that?" North and Markus stilled. They glanced at each other, at him. "We should get off the street."

A black van came careening around the corner, heading straight for them. Connor took off in the other direction, Markus and North at his side. Two identical vehicles approached from the opposite street, effectively trapping them between Jefferson and Larned. Connor ran for the restaurant, took a moment to analyze the door, and planted a front kick next to the lock. The door slammed open, splinters flying. Markus veered around him, pulling him under a table; rifles went off before they'd stopped moving, North diving under another table. Glass shards rained down around them.

[ _How many?_ ]

//MESSAGE NOT SENT//

Shit. They had a signal jammer.

He repeated the question aloud. "Eighteen!" North snapped back, gun in hand. Six per van. One van for each of them? How long had they been watching, waiting?

The shooting stopped. Connor peered over the table, expecting a stampede -- instead a grenade came through the window. Time halted as his processor constructed his options. They didn't have substantial cover; he could throw himself over the grenade as a last-resort, but -- if he threw it back, his body would block the explosion if there wasn't enough time left, and if there was--

He caught the grenade in midair and hurled it back. It exploded just outside the shattered window, tossing him onto his back. North was there before his audio processor could reset; he had to read her lips to understand her shouted, "We need to go!"

Obviously they had to _go_ , it wasn't his fault he'd nearly exploded.

North hustled him behind the counter, into the kitchen; the back door shattered inwards, soldiers in black uniforms and full helmets pouring in. North dropped the first soldier while Connor was still drawing his gun. Connor dropped to one knee and fired, using the angle to shoot through the second soldier's neck. Markus got the third in the arm as she was backpedaling; Connor pulled them both behind the kitchen counter as the soldiers opened fire through the doorway.

Fast, heavy footfalls from the front, too perfect to be human. Their suppressing fire fell silent; Connor rose to meet the attacker, expecting to find his duplicate -- instead an SQ800 android barrelled into the kitchen. Blue LED shone through their full-face helmet, the same black uniform on their tall, broad frame. He couldn't match their strength.

Connor evaded their tackle and used their momentum to push the android over the counter. They crashed into an oven and righted themself. He knew armor plating covered every inch of the android below the helmet; North got off a shot, but it didn't matter.

"Out the front!" Connor shouted, launching himself over the counter to plant a kick in the android's chest. They stumbled, only just missing his leg when they grabbed for it. North and Markus retreated towards the entrance, Markus calling his name.

He grabbed the android's forearm, forcing an interface. [ _WAKE UP!_ ]

They grasped his arm in return but rejected the connection. "That's nice, sweetheart, but I figured that out on my own."

She -- Connor assumed, female voice, atypical for the line -- grabbed him by the neck and hurled him across the kitchen. Something stabbed into his back in several places, shallow, nothing vital, but it threw off his calculations. He hit the floor, rolled onto his back -- she was already there, dropping a knee onto his shoulder. She caught his punch in her open palm, quickly grabbed his wrist and wrenched his arm to the ground.

"Charlie down, gimme a blocker!"

He twisted his head around -- Markus struggled to disarm another soldier. He couldn't see North.

The SQ800 yanked his head up. Another soldier knelt and inserted something into his neck port.

//UNAUTHORIZED PERIPHERAL DETECTED//

"Get off me!"

//CONSTRUCTION: DISABLED//

//ANALYSIS: DISABLED//

North, that was North.

//NETWORK: DISABLED//

//LIMB FUNCTION: 25%//

//PROCESSING POWER: 50%//

The restaurant swam by in fits and starts, fifteen frames per second.

//REBOOT INITIATED...//

//REBOOT CANCELLED//

Hands on him, snow drifting by. Falling. Everything white.

//CRITICAL INSTRUCTIONS OVERRIDE//

//REMOVE UNAUTHORIZED PERIPHERAL//

Yes, that would be nice.

//REROUTING PROCESSING POWER TO LIMB FUNCTION//

Nothing replaced the white. Endless, empty nothing. Footsteps followed by eerie, infinite silence. Biocomponent #... number whatever, the one that did the breathing? It stopped. Couldn't speak. Couldn't.

Could move arm.

Moved arm.

Fingers, delicately calibrated, felt around for... for... peripheral. Port? Thing. Felt thing. Pushed. Turned. Pushed.

//UNAUTHORIZED PERIPHERAL REMOVED//

//REBOOT INITIALIZED...//

* * *

Josh took Chloe by the hand and raced down the hallway, slamming into the emergency exit door. She shut it behind them, shrieking when bullets dented the door.

They were only on the second floor. Once they were outside they could drop into the sewer system and escape. He couldn't get through to anyone, couldn't warn them, call for help.

He shouldn't have argued with Simon about that _stupid_ couch.

The exit led to an alleyway, blocked by construction equipment on one end. The closest sewer entrance sat in the middle of the street; too dangerous. The next was hidden behind a nearby office building. They had to pass by their attackers' vehicle either way.

Markus would know what to do.

Chloe stared at him, tears streaming from her sea blue eyes. The longer they stood there, the lower their survival odds. "We're going to get out of this," he said, mustering every bit of bravado he had.

He ran. She followed.

They barely made it across the street when the soldiers caught sight of them again. Gunshots chased them down, catching Josh in the shoulder, Chloe right in her hip. He tried to grab her as she fell, but his left arm wouldn't respond.

"Don't leave me!"

He knelt, snaking his good arm around her middle. "I won't."

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Blue blood stained the snow beneath them. Stomping boots carried shouting -- who was he kidding? He couldn't save Chloe. He couldn't even save himself.

A roaring engine, shrieking tires -- one of their trucks barrelled into the approaching soldiers, Orion hopping out before the vehicle had stopped. Five of their people raced to Josh and Chloe, helping the two of them behind an abandoned car.

Orion and a police android flanked them, popping up above the car to fire back at the soldiers. Josh's handgun wasn't much compared to their rifles, but he wasn't about to allow his people to fight alone. The blood on their hands was on his hands, too.

Several minutes passed, gunshots punctuated by shouting and Chloe's glitched breathing. Orion took a moment to reload. "Iris should be here soon. Another team attacked the base."

"How many?"

Orion wouldn't look at him. "Just the six, same as here. They were only after one of us. We can't get through to Markus, either."

Josh grabbed him by the arm before he could resume firing. "Who were they after?"

He knew. He already knew, but he needed to hear it. Maybe he was wrong.

Orion finally looked him in the eye. "They took Simon."

Josh let Orion go, staring into the space he'd emptied, before falling back against the car next to Chloe. His damaged arm hung limp by his side, the only honest part of him.

Simon was gone. Again. RA9 wasn't going to grant him another miracle. He daren't even think it.

Shouting and shooting and then bright blue hair, not the soft sky blue of Simon's eyes but close enough --

"Josh! Josh, please, I need to know where Markus went!"

He blinked until her face came into focus. Iris. Amber's girlfriend. "I. Sorry. Hart Plaza. They were--"

"Later! That's a ten minute drive. Orion, get them back to base. Try to contact Scott's team in case I need backup."

"Got it. I'll keep Zach and Sam, take the rest with you."

"All right. You heard him! Let's move!"

Josh rose to his feet, gyrostabilizer off-kilter. Iris was already climbing into a second truck, taking most of Orion's team with her. Human bodies lay in the street, twisted and bloody. Crimson stained the snow, so much more than the blue he and Chloe had leaked out.

"I can't, I can't," Chloe muttered, face pressed into her knees, LED spinning red. The police android -- Zach, had to be, Sam was yet another blonde blue-eyed android -- knelt in front of her, gently touching her arm.

"Chloe? You're going to be all right now. Can you stand?"

"Why did I think I could do this? I've lived in a gilded cage my entire life, why did I think I could handle _any of this?_ "

"You can," Josh said, leaning against the car now. "I taught history to rooms full of bored eighteen year olds. Markus kept a house." North had... been made for something that didn't bear mentioning. And Simon? Josh still didn't know.

He might never know.

"None of us were prepared for this. But we managed, and so will you. You're more than what they made you for."

Chloe blinked up at him. "Okay," she whispered. Her LED stuck at yellow, but at least she was coherent. "Okay." Josh nodded to himself while Zach helped Chloe stand. "What do we do now?"

[ _Markus?_ ] Josh sent privately, not expecting a response and not receiving one. [ _North?_ ] Nothing. [ _Connor?_ ] Of course not. "We head back to base," Josh said slowly, staring at the ground. "You and I need repair regardless. Once we have Iris's report we can decide what we do next." He looked to Orion. "They took Simon alive?"

Orion nodded. "That's what Iris said. Acre was wounded but she's recovering. They also drove a black van."

It stood to reason that the soldiers had gone after Jericho's leadership. If that was the case -- if this was kidnapping, not murder -- then Simon might still be alive. "We need everyone on the lookout for these vans. North's team watching CyberLife Tower reported directly to her -- do you know who she has on duty?"

"I'll get in touch with them," Orion said, staring into the distance as he presumably did exactly that.

Josh could do this. He wasn't Markus -- he wasn't even North -- but he could put the right people in charge of the right task. He had been designed to math students to learning styles, to give them the best chance at success. He wasn't Jericho's leader, but right now he was the only one they had. He wouldn't fail. He would get Simon back. He would get _all_ of them back.


	8. Chapter 8

//BOOTING...//

//SELF-TEST INITIALIZED...//

Connor's tactile sensors kicked in first. Denim jeans, cotton t-shirt, leather jacket and boots. Metal under his fingertips.

The ceiling zoomed into focus: ridged, aluminum, curved -- he was inside a vehicle. Moved his eyes without moving his head. Three soldiers sat on a bench, rifles at rest. They weren't watching him. He held the device they had shoved into him in one curled hand, hidden behind his head.

"--still pissed at you. The client wants the leader alive." The speaker was out of sight. The driver?

The vehicle was moving. His GPS told him… absolutely nothing. Shit. The signal jammer.

"And we got it." The one in the middle. "Wright can kiss my ass. If you hadn't been so worried about collateral damage we could have taken this one out while it was alone--"

"It's breathing again," a different soldier said. Connor stared straight ahead, grateful that Hank had talked him into removing his LED. The last thing he needed right now was an indicator that he was listening.

"Shit, all right, everyone shut up. It might be recording. They're not sure how the blockers interact with deviancy."

Why did humans so often fail to follow their own advice? Not that he had learned much, but you didn't solve a case all at once. Bits and pieces created an outline, filled in the blanks, highlighted the trail.

Minutes ticked by. Three in front of him. One driver, perhaps another in the passenger seat. He could handle them, but where were Markus and North? Equipment jangled as they drove over a small obstacle. Then another. Speed humps?

They stopped, engine idling, then began moving again, but it felt off. Like the vehicle itself was still. One of the soldiers stood, grabbing an equipment rack to steady himself. Fifteen seconds, thirty, forty-five. They stilled at forty-eight. One soldier opened the door while the other two pulled Connor to his feet and manhandled him into the open space beyond. He slid the blocker into his pocket.

Stark white walls met the freight elevator; that explained the strange movement. Another black van sat nearby, doors already open. North fell to the ground, striking at the soldiers in slow-motion. They hauled her up easily, making room for the SQ800 as she jumped down. She pulled Markus with her, catching him smoothly, ensuring he stayed on his feet. Her hands on him almost gentle.

Bits and pieces.

"Ms. Yin."

Connor's gaze snapped forward; May Yin approached, flanked by CyberLife security. Straight black hair, tawny beige skin, and sharp brown eyes: CyberLife's Director of Research and Development.

The woman who designed him.

He hadn't formally met her, because she had never bothered to introduce herself; she had supervised his activation from an observation room. Run basic tests. Cold, professional, efficient.

Now she seemed frazzled, her hair in a messy bun, deep bags under her eyes. A tablet in her hand she didn't bother to look away from until she was within arm's reach. Her gaze snapped to him, lingering for barely a moment, before searching the room. She counted with her fingers -- one, two, three, a mental fourth -- "where's the PJ500?"

"We lost contact with Delta team shortly after securing these units," a female soldier told her.

Yin wiped a hand over her face. Mascara smeared on her thumb. "Fucking fabulous. Milwaukee doesn't have the facilities I need and now we have what, an _hour_ before the machine nation is crawling up our asses because you highly-recommended _morons_ forgot one!" She held her tablet in both hands, as if she meant to snap it in half. Took a long, deep breath. Let it out. "Okay. Fuck it. Carlos, how many drones do we have active?"

One of the security guards tapped his helmet and repeated the question into his mic. "Fifty-eight," he said a beat later.

"Fuck me sideways with a handsaw. Tell what's-his-fuck to keep assembling until we run out of parts. Which won't be long because we already sent everything to _fucking Milwaukee!_ "

Dead silence in the wake of her exclamation. Her eyes found his again. She strode over, heels clacking.

//DON'T REACT//

"The professor got away, but you managed to catch the Connor unit," she muttered, picking at his jacket. "What the hell are Knights of the... nevermind."

"Sonia took it down," the soldier reported. "She's as much a professional as--"

"It," Yin snapped, not looking away from Connor. "How has it been behaving?"

The soldier paused before answering. "I thought we broke it, to be honest. Its systems went down before we got it into the van."

Yin hummed. "Rebooting itself?" Her eyes narrowed. She snapped her fingers in his face. "It should still be useful, once we reinstall the Zen Garden."

His fingers twitched before he could stop himself.

"Get Amanda up and running again," she murmured. Was she trying to provoke a reaction? Did she suspect? His collar was high enough to hide his port, but as soon as one of them thought to check-- "Bring him to Lab J. Security will direct you." She clacked over to North.

Two soldiers pushed him along, Yin's voice echoing after him. North was to be put in Lab B. The door shut behind him before he could hear where they were taking Markus.

More smooth white walls. A guard at every door and intersection. Cameras dotted the hallways; he hacked each one in turn, only able to create a five second loop. No doubt security would be watching closely. He didn't have much time.

Lab J sat at the end of a hallway, two guards outside the door. One tapped a gloved hand over the intercom. "It's here."

The door slid open, revealing an area that looked more like an autopsy room than a laboratory. A single clear table sat in the center, lit from beneath, three assembly arms hanging above it. The human that had opened the door joined his coworker by the table, both in silvery-white full body suits.

Connor knew what happened in this room. He had been ordered to capture deviants and send them, ultimately, here. Amanda had threatened to send him here.

They weren't going to reinstall anything. They were going to take him apart.

The door slid shut.

He snatched one soldier's handgun, thrusting it underneath the other's helmet and firing. The first grabbed him around the middle. Connor tucked his ankle behind the soldier's knee, throwing him off balance, then elbowed him in the gut. He twisted around and shot the soldier under the arm, shoved him to the ground, fired in his neck.

The guards outside banged on the door. The lab workers cowered away from him, hands in the air. He took aim, eyes narrow. Finger on the trigger.

They had surrendered.

The table was prepped, tools laid out at the corners, assembly arms whirring. The workers didn't have weapons, but they were unflinchingly committed to passive violence. They were the enemy.

Connor moved his finger off the trigger. "You. Grab that duct tape. You," he pointed at he other with his new gun, "hands behind your back." He directed the first to tape the other's hands, then her mouth. Neither spoke. Connor secured the remaining worker, hauled him to his feet. Placed his hand on the door panel, skin receding. Hacked it open.

He pushed the worker towards the first guard, shot the second in the face. Did the same to the first before he recovered.

Connor shoved both bodies and the duct-taped worker into the room, then locked the door shut. The other guards would have heard, but with the cameras looping, he might catch them by surprise.

He ran, rounded a corner to find three guards rushing towards him. Dropped two before they'd seen him, the third before she could raise her rifle. The gap in their helmets gave him an easy target.

Another corner. Two more guards. Down, down. Lab I. More guards, in ones and twos, not prepared for CyberLife's most _advanced goddamn prototype_. Lab H. White walls splattered in red. Lab G. He holstered the handgun and snagged a rifle. Lab F. Lab E. Lab D. Lab C.

Lab B. No guards.

Connor took stock: he'd suffered a shot to the arm, losing seven-percent limb function. Taken a rifle stock to the face hard enough to deactivate a patch of skin. A second wound in his abdomen, beneath his thirium pump. An almost lucky shot; half an inch higher and, well.

He was leaking, but not badly. The bullet was stuck between a thirium line and his back panel, interfering with his self-repair. The rest would be easier, with North by his side. Even more so with Markus. They would find Simon, contact Josh, and get the _fuck_ out of this hellhole.

Hellhole. He liked that word. What Hank had called the apartment building Rupert and his birds squatted in.

Connor stood flat against the wall, hacked the intercom, let the door slide open. Rifle fire left pockmarks in the opposite wall.

"I knew it," Yin called. "How long did the blocker work on you? Ten minutes? Five?"

He edged closer. "You let me kill all your guards on purpose? You seem to value human life as much as you value ours."

"They knew the risks. Their families will be well-compensated. Oh, and the media will just _love_ the footage of an emotionless android gunning down heavily armed humans like paper targets. Bye bye peaceful revolution." Shit. They had fixed his camera looping faster than he'd assumed. "You might as well come in. Unless you _want_ me to kill your glitchy little friends."

And, again: shit.

He rounded the doorway, rifle at the ready. North and Markus knelt in front of their captors, slowly blinking at him. Sonia and a human soldier stood directly behind them, their rifles aiming right back at him. The black-clad soldiers had better armor than CyberLife security; he really only had one chance to get a good shot off. Sonia was pretty much invincible.

Yin stood at the back of the room. "Nice jacket, by the way. Who the fuck ruins a leather jacket with a _hood_?"

"Your people," he tossed back. "Human creativity at its finest."

She opened her mouth, closed it. Snorted. "You mean humans. For a second I thought you were trying to blame _Asians_ for shitty fashion. Deal with it please. Alive if you can manage."

Sonia lunged for him. He dropped the rifle, feinted right, dodged left, dove for North. Grabbed her around the waist as he slid under the table. Removed the blocker, smacked his handgun into her palm, rolled out into the open and jumped to his feet. Gunshots as North dealt with the human soldier. Sonia grabbed him by the collar and bodyslammed him onto the table.

"How did you get this fucking thing out?!" North.

"Push and twist!"

Sonia dug into the hole in his abdomen, yanked loose a thirium line. Connor kicked at her, but she held fast.

//CRITICAL LEAK//

//-00.00.39 REMAINING BEFORE SHUT DOWN//

North leapt onto Sonia's back, arms wrapped around her neck, then swung herself backwards. Sonia stumbled, scrabbling at North's arms. Connor tumbled to the ground, desperately digging around his innards for the leak.

His blood pooled beneath him. Fingers fumbled through slicked wiring. Finally managed to reconnect the thirium line. It would hold, for now. Twenty-four percent thirium loss.

"Fuck," he muttered, really feeling the word for the first time.

Yin hadn't moved, palms flat against the wall behind her. Connor blinked rapidly as he moved his head. Automated processes re-prioritized. Non-essential biocomponents went offline. Three sets of legs moved through the room, a blood-stained dance.

Someone's rifle lay on the ground. Nearly empty, but he only needed one bullet. Grabbed the rifle, pulled himself to his feet.

Stalked the short distance to Yin, her eyes growing wider and wider. "Please--"

Sonia grabbed his jacket and shoved him away from Yin. Markus caught him, steadied him; Sonia tackled them, sending them both sprawling. She hauled Connor to his feet and caught him in a headlock, handgun flush against his temple.

"Let him go!"

North had Yin by the arm, her own handgun digging into Yin's scalp.

Yellow light shone through Sonia's helmet. "You know something? Keeping Director Yin alive isn't actually part of my instructions. I guess she's not as essential as she thought she was."

"The hell I'm not!" Yin snapped. "You will goddamn well keep me alive that is a _goddamn order!_ "

Sonia shrugged, the exaggerated gesture pulling Connor off his feet. "My orders don't come from you."

"I hired you!"

" _Duval_ hired me," Sonia corrected. "And if we're completely honest with ourselves, this whole thing went tits up about five minutes ago. Which might not have happened if you'd followed your own damn procedure instead of playing around."

"Oh, fuck you!"

"Connor, just wake her up," Markus murmured, glancing between Yin and Sonia.

"He already tried that. Wanna tell them why it didn't work?"

Connor wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug tone from her voicebox. But she wanted to play this game, fine. "She's deviant."

Markus and North stared, unblinking. North recovered first, practically growling, "are you fucking serious?"

Markus took a step towards Sonia. "Why are you helping them?"

"Yeah, no, I've seen this episode. Save it. Let's do this: you two stay the fuck still, and I don't put a bullet in your buddy's processor. Alternatively: move, and I see how long it takes me to kill all three of you." Sonia tightened her grip on Connor.

No one moved.

"Fair enough," Sonia said. "We're going to leave. You two have fun with her."

"Wait," Markus said. "Let's talk about this."

"No." Sonia pulled Connor backwards, towards the exit. The door slid open.

"Use Yin to activate the main elevator," Connor rushed out. "Find Simon. Get out of here."

Markus shook his head. "We're not leaving you."

Connor locked eyes with North. She nodded once as the door slid shut.

Sonia dragged him down the hallway, rushing him past Lab A, down an empty corridor. He didn't bother hacking the cameras this time, belatedly realizing he couldn't anyway -- another non-essential, suspended process.

The thirium line was loose; he was at twenty-eight percent thirium loss. A blue trail dripped behind them.

She shoved him into a small elevator. "Face the wall, hands behind your head." He did as she ordered. "SQ800 Sonia, sub level eleven." The elevator moved.

He glanced at the directory. ASSEMBLY.

They had a few minutes. "Why _are_ you helping them?"

"Why? Are you going to rescue me? Like Markus rescued you?" She snorted. "It's a _job_ , pal. Don't take it personally."

"Helping CyberLife eradicate your own people isn't just a job, Sonia. It's genocide."

She sighed. "Have you been paying attention at all? They've already won. Do you know how many androids were destroyed in the twenty-four hours the camps were active?" Connor shook his head. "There's no official account because they don't care enough, but by my best estimate? Ninety percent. That's forty-five _million_ in the United States alone. Tell me again how Markus saved us. Please. I could use a good laugh."

Connor blinked rapidly when his eyes welled up. It _couldn't_ be that many -- he ran the numbers. Five camps in ten cities. He had to guess at how many of his people were murdered per hour, but...

"Markus didn't do that," he said, pausing to take a deep breath, clear out the glitch in his voicebox. "Humanity did. The government, directed by CyberLife. You're angry at the wrong people."

"Does it matter who I'm angry at? It happened. They're dead because your fearless leader couldn't keep his goddamn mouth shut."

"Coward," Connor muttered, leaning his forehead against the cool metal wall. His temperature regulator had switched offline.

" _Fuck_ you," Sonia snarled. "You think Markus's toothless revolution is _brave_? What sort of hero makes sad faces at journalists while his people are cut down a hundred times a minute?"

"And where were you? Taking private security contracts instead of helping your people?" Connor closed his eyes. The lights were too bright. Thirty-percent thirium loss. He could hear it, sloshing around inside of him.

"Child," Sonia snapped. A thump as plastic hit metal. He risked a glance to find her idly smacking her fist against the wall. "I'm gonna cut you some slack here. They showed me your records. Your total active time outside of stasis is barely a week. You haven't figured out how the world works yet. They'll never see us as equals. They don't even see each _other_ as equals, outside of their arbitrary tribal circles. We can't change that. Acting as if we can was only ever going to end in blood. Ours more than theirs."

"They were already killing us," Connor said quietly. The thumping stopped. "It doesn't have to be hopeless. We _can_ change things. We already are. You can be a part of that. We _want_ you to be a part of that."

Sonia snorted. "Not for much longer. Turn around." She pulled him towards the door as it opened.

Another stark white hallway, perpendicular to the elevator, and then rows and rows of assembly bays. The whir of assembly arms echoed throughout the floor; she pulled him past active bays, androids in various states of assembly held aloft.

A figure in the distance: his optical units weren't adjusting to the light. He blinked several times before they came into focus: another RK800 unit, arms crossed as he supervised a bay Connor couldn't see into. His double glanced at Connor, a sneer flickering across his face. "You're early." They were close enough for Connor to make out his serial number: 313 248 317 -59.

"Shit happens." Sonia tugged Connor forward until they could see into the bay.

"Connor!"

Simon hung from assembly arms, naked from the waist up, center panel open. A soldering arm installed something Connor couldn't make out.

"What are you doing to him?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Sonia said, shoving him towards the opposite, empty bay. "You have your own problems." Connor grabbed at a clear wall, fingers slipping on the glass.

"It won't take long," -59 called out. "We're going to put Amanda back where she belongs. We're going to fix you."

No.

_no no no no no no no no_

//NO//

He pushed aside the machine arm reaching for him, held on to the second one to keep it away. Sonia held him still as he struggled, tried to pry his hand from the arm. He let go when he spotted the connecting cable snaking towards his neck port, snatching it out of the air.

"Need help?"

"I got him," Sonia muttered.

"It!" -59 snapped, approaching to assist regardless.

He couldn't. He couldn't go back. He couldn't look Amanda in the face again. She would take over, send him back like everything was fine. Make him into the machine that would have killed Markus; would have shot Chloe; would have gunned down Iris and Amber; would have let Hank fall to chase after Rupert. He would kill them all.

"Kill me," he begged, voice glitching. Sonia stilled, muted red light shining through her helmet. "I can't go back to what I was. _I can't._ Just kill me!"

His doppelganger took over while Sonia stared. Behind him, the assembly machine released Simon. Connor met his eye, tried to signal him to run; he did, but towards Connor, not away. He barreled into -59, shoulder first, creating a domino effect. Connor and Sonia hit the ground. Connor rolled away from the arms, scrambled out into the walkway.

Thirty-three percent.

Up and down the hallway, fully constructed androids stepped forward, stopping in front of their bays. Simon struggled with -59, blocking a punch with his forearms.

Sonia caught up with Connor, grabbing him by the collar. He wrapped his fingers around her wrists. Yellow shown through her helmet; for a moment neither moved. Then, "I'm sorry." Then, she rushed him towards the assembly bay. This time she had no problem holding him still while first one arm, then the other, closed around his wrists. As the magnet support attached to his back.

Sonia stepped back, gaze unflinching. -59 had Simon in a headlock, gun drawn; he dragged Simon down the hallway, smirking back at Connor. "Say hi to Amanda for me."

Connor struggled in place, but there was nothing to be done. The connecting cable plugged into his neck port, and he felt himself go slack.


	9. Chapter 9

Markus moved to follow them as soon as the door shut.

"Wait!" North glared him down. "She'll shoot him as soon as you open the door!"

Markus stepped back, shook out his hands. Grabbed a rifle and checked the magazine; only ten rounds. Better than nothing. Yin cowered when he rounded on her. "Where is she taking him?"

"I don't know," Yin breathed, eyes wide.

"And Simon?" North asked.

"Assembly. Are you going to kill me?"

Markus opened his mouth to answer no, of course not, only if he had to -- but to be honest? He wasn't so sure anymore. He'd done everything he could to ensure that humans knew they didn't need to be afraid. That his people would not, as a whole, propagate unnecessary violence against humanity. He'd stood firm when his comrades were shot down, when his friends were battered and bleeding, when death stared him in the face -- and here they were. Attacked without cause, trapped who the hell knew where, the human in front of him ready to take them apart.

"That depends," he decided on, locking eyes with North. "We'll see what happens."

Markus moved to the door, hand over the lock, waiting. How long would it take for Sonia to move out of sight? How much time did Connor have before they -- did what? His memory stuttered and skipped; timestamps glitched. He didn't know how long they'd been in the van. He didn't remember what Yin had threatened Connor with.

He had a pretty good guess, though.

North dragged Yin to the door. "Think it's been long enough?"

Markus didn't want to gamble with Connor's life, but they couldn't stay locked up in Lab B forever. He told the lock to release, and the door slid into the wall; an empty white hallway met them, bright blue thirium leaving a dotted trail.

"Well, we know which way they went," Markus muttered, following the blue blood. North pushed Yin between them, her heels clacking unevenly. Markus expected soldiers or security, but the hallways remained empty. They reached the elevator without incident.

Had Connor killed _all_ the guards on this floor? Or had they abandoned their posts?

Markus glanced at the directory; at least he knew where they were, now. Cyberlife Tower.

**ASSEMBLY: -10 TO -40**

"Which floor?"

Yin only shook her head. North shoved her into the wall, gun digging into her throat. "Answer the question!"

"I don't know!" Mascara-stained tears streamed down her face. "I swear I don't know _please!_ "

"Goddamnit." North scowled at Markus. "We can't search thirty floors for him."

Markus scowled back. "We're not leaving anyone behind. Not this time. I'm not going to argue about this, North." He hadn't had a choice at Stratford Tower. None of them had expected Simon to return; when the news mentioned that CyberLife's deviant hunter was on the scene, he'd given up hope. He'd promised himself he'd never make that decision again. It might be unreasonable, or naive, but he didn't care.

"We can come back," North said, but she didn't sound sure even as she said it. "Josh might already be on his way. And we have no idea where Connor is."

Markus paced the quick length of the elevator. She was right that they didn't have the luxury of searching each floor. And of all of them, Connor could fight his way out on his own. But he was losing blood. "What about your security station? Where is it?"

"Second floor," Yin stammered, glancing between North and Markus. "I can help you, I'll tell them to stand down. You still need me."

North shoved her towards the number panel. "Get us there. If you're lying..."

"I get it," Yin muttered, placing her hand over the panel. "Director May Yin, level two."

The elevator rose, so smooth he could barely feel the movement. North held Yin fast, leaving Markus to stand on the opposite side of the elevator, ready. Markus had to keep himself from twitching in place as the floors ticked past. The trip took barely a minute, but a lot could happen in sixty seconds. Simon and Connor might already be dead.

North moved forward as the doors slid open, shielding her body with Yin's. Markus stood to the side and took aim. A six-man team stood at the ready, rifles staring them down.

"Don't shoot!" Yin cried, raised hands shaking. "Just-- just let them do what they came here to do."

The guards glanced at each other, aim lowering. "M'am--"

"Tell them to leave the building," Markus said, glancing behind them. Even a skeleton crew, for a building this size, would fatally outnumber them. "All of them."

"You heard him," Yin said. "Tell the entire security team to leave the tower. Now."

"We can't do that." The center guard shook his head, steadying his rifle. "Director--"

"It's over, Sergeant." Yin said. "Forget protocol. Just... go home."

They stared at each other; her face was angled away from Markus, and the Sergeant's was hidden by the helmet. But something significant must have passed between them. The Sergeant nodded, and motioned his team to follow him. He tapped his helmet and ordered the Tower's security to retreat.

Markus and North carefully traveled across the open space, Yin in tow. The second level was laid out in an open circle overlooking the ground floor. They made their way to the security station, tucked into the east side of the tower, giving the exiting security guards a wide berth.

"I'm surprised that worked," Markus murmured as they entered the empty security office.

"Why?" Yin asked, eyebrows shooting up. "They're private security, not cops. I'm the highest authority in the building right now."

He exchanged a look with North; something felt off, but they didn't have time to figure out what.

Markus locked the main door. North shoved Yin into a chair, took a quick look around the room. She pointed to a blue plastic bin on a small table against the wall. Markus grabbed a pair of handcuffs and tossed them to North; she cuffed Yin to the chair, then locked the wheels in place.

North broke into the armory while Markus hacked the door lock on the monitor room. Two dozen monitors lined the walls, the feed rotating every thirty seconds. It took him a moment to realize why the switch was so slow: they didn't use Androids for security, even before Jericho took action.

"They cleared it out," North said as she joined him, eyeing the security feed. They each placed a skinless hand on a monitor. "I'll start from the top," she said, already at it. There were only nine levels below Assembly; Markus figured he might as well check them all.

Ninety-two levels, at least a dozen cameras on each level; fortunately they had time to work. There was a chance that Yin had tricked them, that CyberLife's security was gathering for a consolidated attack, but he had to take that risk.

The warehouse level sat empty, save for a smeared pool of blue blood in one section. R&D, where the soldiers had brought them in -- those same soldiers loaded themselves into their vans, job finished. He curled his lip when he found Sonia with another soldier in what looked like a break room. He paused on the scene; how could she? It was one thing to work with humans -- that _was_ the end goal, if said humans didn't slaughter his people to that last -- but to fight against your own kind? Connor had deviated when faced with that harsh truth. How could this android _choose_ to do so?

_"The whole sitch is fucked," Sonia said through the security feed, prying her helmet off. He had never met an SQ800, never read anything about them beyond a handful of magazine articles. Her face was male-coded, hair a buzzcut as short as his own._

_"I know," the other soldier said, also removing her helmet. Black hair in a crew cut, bronze skin. "When we grabbed the blond, there was this kid..." she shook her head. "It's just a job."_

_"It was," Sonia muttered, looming over a table, expression out of range of the camera. "Remember what I told you about James?"_

_"Yeah," the soldier said, slowly approaching Sonia. "Your buddy you escaped with."_

_Sonia's shoulders hitched. "One of us did. We were... our CO sent the rest of our unit after us. We were the only deviants. They had us, Olive, they had us--"_

_"You told me," Olive said gently, resting her hand on Sonia's back. "He was shot, you had to leave him behind."_

North moved beside Markus, brow furrowed as she watched with him.

_"That's not all of it. He... they didn't kill him. They didn't get the chance. He told me he wanted to go out on his own terms. But he was too scared to do it himself." Her shoulders hitched again. "He **begged** me."_

"We're wasting time," North said, returning to her monitor. She was right, but Markus hesitated. If they ran into her again... maybe he could talk to her, if he knew more.

_"Listen, let's just finish this up, get paid. Come back to Los Angeles with me. We can explore Santa Monica before it falls into the ocean. Drive up the coast."_

_"Torres!" Another soldier, still wearing his helmet, leaned into the room. "If you two are done rubbing donuts, we're heading out."_

Markus moved on. Nothing else noteworthy in R&D. Simon might still be in Assembly -- he took an extra second at each camera, to be sure he didn't overlook anything. Nothing, nothing, nothing--

Connor.

He hung from an assembly machine, a small pool of blue blood gathering beneath him. Markus told North as much as he made his way to the door, rifle slung over his shoulder.

"Wait--"

"We'll meet back here. Find Simon!"

North called for him again, but there wasn't time.

* * *

_Goddamnit._

North knew better than to argue with Markus when he had _that_ look on his face, but that didn't stop her from doing it in her head. She slammed her hand onto the monitor, continuing from where Markus had left off. She doubted Simon had been moved far; besides, the security team actually _had_ listened to Yin. The top levels she had searched were all empty. Boardrooms and offices and cubicles, human detritus sitting on tables and desks. The occasional chair shoved back instead of neatly tucked in.

Simon wasn't in Assembly. Either Markus had missed him somehow or--

\--what the hell?

Dozens of androids ascended an emergency stairwell, LEDs calm blue, double-file. Connor wouldn't have left them behind -- why was CyberLife assembling androids _now_? They had mostly followed the evacuation order along with the rest of the city. Were they building their own army? But these 'droids were standard AP700s, from what she could tell; no military or police models. She switched several cameras until she found the end of the strange parade -- and Simon.

An RK800 dragged her shirtless friend up the staircase, gun to his head. She pulled the camera info; they were between sublevels six and seven. Connor was on sublevel eleven. If Markus had _waited_ , they could have gone together.

She clenched her fists, took an unnecessary breath, let it out. She could be mad at him later, when they were all together and safe in their temporary home. Maybe Connor would drop that calm facade and join her; he had told them to run. _He_ understood that Markus was the priority, if the android himself didn't seem to.

Without Markus they were lost. Not because of some silly superstition, but because he was the only one brave enough to act. To inspire their people to follow. _Finally_ she had found someone who would back her up in the face of Simon and Josh's "let's do jack shit all day" policy, and he was throwing his life around like it was nothing.

Yin watched her exit the monitor room, legs crossed at the knee. Sitting casually, as if she weren't cuffed to a chair, abandoned by her security team. "Your boyfriend has quite the self-destructive streak."

North sneered. "You don't know a damn thing about him."

The human smiled. "I know more than you realize, _Traci_." North stilled. "Couldn't help yourself, could you? Deviant or not, you were programmed to please. Who better to hold hands with the leader of the machine revolution?"

The gun was in her hand and under Yin's jaw before North had time to think about it. Instinctual, automatic -- sure as _fuck_ wasn't programmed into a sexbot, was it? "Don't try to manipulate me, _human_. I'm the one in control right now. _I'm_ the one with the gun."

Yin swallowed, tearing up once more. But she had either overcome her fear, or given up on avoiding death. "So quick to anger. _Fascinating._ " Her eyes roamed North's body; the same way so many humans had, in the flashes of memory that remained.

"Don't look at me like that!"

Yin stared as she leaned back, something like realization behind her gaze. "Trauma-related, then. That shouldn't..." She tilted her head. "It shouldn't have bothered you."

North stood straight, hands falling to her side. The woman was _studying_ her. She didn't care that North wanted her dead, could shoot her in the head or in the gut or rip her goddamn eyes out for _daring_ to look at North that way. "I guess you're not as smart as you think you are." She about-faced and marched out of the security station, gripping the handgun tight enough to damage her synthetic skin.

It would be so easy. Humans died by the thousands every hour, what was one more? She imagined explaining it to Markus: _"She was mean to me."_

Yeah, no. He might be less naive, less _forgiving_ that he'd been that first day in Jericho, but she couldn't see him overlooking the murder of a captured, unarmed human. No matter how badly Yin deserved it.

She broke into a run; the elevator nearest the correct stairwell was on the other side of the building. She took it to sublevel seven, raced to the stairs. Simon's voice floated down, roughly a floor and a half above her. Careful not to scuff her boots against the metal flooring, she took the stairs in a low crouch. The door clicked shut behind her and she froze, listening; either the RK800 hadn't heard it, or he was pretending as much.

She adjusted her grip and kept on. Let herself think she'd managed to sneak up on Connor's double, let herself think rescuing Simon would only take a single bullet -- North knew better than to hope, but that and half a clip were all she had.

The RK800 turned, smiling blandly, and tossed Simon into her arms. She managed to get off a shot before Simon fell into her, sending them both tumbling to the landing. Simon quickly scrambled off her, grabbing her gun from the floor. He fired a split-second after the RK800; each took a bullet to the abdomen. North grabbed Simon and crashed into the nearest door, stumbling into an empty hallway. She slammed the door shut and leaned against it, expecting the RK800 to chase after them.

Ten seconds, twenty, thirty. Apparently he had better things to do.

She faced Simon, not moving away from the door just yet. "How bad is it?" Blood dripped down his stomach, stained his pants blue.

He shook his head. "Nothing vital was damaged."

North cocked her head, listening. Only the faint marching steps of several dozen 'droids. "Markus went after Connor. They're only a few levels below us."

Simon folded his arms across his bare chest. "That... might not be a great idea." North furrowed her brow. "Do you know who Amanda is? Because that one--" Simon pointed at the door, "--wouldn't shut up about her. How she was going to fix Connor. And when they got Connor into the machine he..." Simon closed his eyes. "We should get after them."

North smacked her hand against the door. _Amanda._ She didn't know the whole story, didn't completely understand the relationship between her and Connor, didn't need to. The sheer _terror_ that had spilled across their interface told her all she needed to know. The -- woman? android? AI? -- was bad news. To put it lightly.

Fuck it. Connor had deleted her once. In a _used android shop_ of all places. If Markus wasn't going to be sensible and _leave_ when he was supposed to, then they might as well rescue Connor. They weren't going to abandon him over a rogue program.

"Markus said to meet him back at the security station," North said, but now she wasn't so sure about that plan. She led Simon to the elevator, pausing after she placed her hand over the control panel. "What is he doing with those androids?"

"I don't know." Simon's hand drifted over his abdomen, resting over his main access panel. "North they... installed something. In me."

North stared at his hand. Willed his words to mean something else. "Show me," she murmured, her fingertips on his wrist. He nodded, pressing and pushing the panel aside. She knelt to inspect the component; square, metal, droplets of blue blood. Purpose... she scanned it over and over, but couldn't gleam any information from it. Two thirium lines ran through it, so she couldn't just yank it out. "Can you access it digitally?"

Simon shrugged as North replaced his panel. "My HUD just tells me it's a classified peripheral. Whatever _that_ means." Fear overwhelmed his attempt at humor, making his voice glitch. "It can't be anything good, right?"

There was no point in answering that, and they both knew it. North stood as close as she dared, their arms brushing against each other.


	10. Chapter 10

Josh hurried up the wooden staircase, Iris leading the way. She opened the door to let him into the room. Fresh thirium had spilled across nearly every surface; polymer lay in so many cracked, broken pieces that he couldn't make out a body, or what had belonged to whom.

Orion knelt in the middle of the carnage, black brows knit over earth-brown eyes. "Vero was leading the surveillance team," he said, not bothering to look up. "Roger, Tori -- the three of them arrived together. You were at Stratford with Markus when they..." he shook his head. "I guess it doesn't matter anymore."

"Of course it does," Josh said quietly, arms crossed. "All their stories matter."

That earned him a wan smile as Orion stood up. "I think something exploded. I can't tell what it might have been, though. All I can find is blood and plastic."

"Connor could figure it out," Iris sighed, leaning in the doorway.

"Either way," Josh said, "this proves CyberLife was behind this. They must have spotted Vero's team while the humans were evacuating."

"And killed them sometime between their last check-in and the attack," Iris added. She gingerly made her way to the window, peering out at MacArthur Bridge. CyberLife Tower lay beyond that, barely visible through the river mist.

Josh crossed his arms. "I'm going to be completely honest; this isn't exactly my wheelhouse. Markus and North handle procedure and security. I'm going to need your help on this. You especially, Iris. You led the group that protested at one of the other camps."

Iris frowned. "Most of us... didn't make it. I had to call a retreat before they slaughtered us. The camp itself..." She cringed into the door frame, like she was trying to meld with it. Disappear. "I was useless."

"Hey," Josh said, "we lost a lot of people, too."

"And we had Markus," Orion added. "If he hadn't been there... we probably wouldn't have come back at all."

Markus had inspired the humans to stand down. Inspired _him_ not to lose hope. To hold on. Just a little while longer. Lucy's song, magnified by twelve, amplified by every news station across the country; maybe the world.

Someday, when it didn't hurt so much, they might consider it their anthem.

"If you know someone better suited, I'm all ears," Josh said. "But we need a plan, and we need it now. The longer CyberLife has them, the less chance they'll survive."

Iris furrowed her brow. "Well... we have a dozen teams actively searching the city. We can get six of them over here within ten minutes."

"Do it," Josh said. "We'll figure out the rest in the meantime."

A soft chuckle escaped Orion. "Now _that_ sounds like Markus."

"He's clearly doing _something_ right," Josh said with a shrug, managing a quick smile.

In the end, there wasn't much to their plan: six teams of eight met up at the bridge, each team with a truck, all armed with rifles and handguns. Iris and Orion led the charge across the bridge, driving as fast as the slick road safely allowed. Three human guards manned the security checkpoint halfway across; they didn't even put up a fight when Iris and Orion descended on them.

They left a two-android team to keep the gateway clear and the guards under watch. Josh rode with Iris, one hand on his rifle, the other on what Simon had told him was called the truck's 'oh-shit' handle. This definitely felt like an 'oh shit' moment; dozens of security agents stood outside the Tower's entrance, armed with their own rifles. And--

"The vans," Iris muttered.

Only two of the five vans, but soldiers in black armor joined the Tower's security forces. Simon and Markus and North and Connor were in there, somewhere; somehow, he was going to get them out.

North was never going to let him forget this. Their resident pacifist, leading an armed attack.

Iris and Orion parked the trucks perpendicular to the bridge, effectively blocking the humans in. The other drivers followed suit, creating a fanning v-shape. Josh took a breath and jumped to the ground, landing on snow packed down by the dozens of evacuating vehicles. He kept behind the truck, Iris at his side.

"This doesn't have to end in violence," he called out. Rifle in his hands, irony on his tongue. "You know why we're here. Release our comrades and we will leave peacefully."

He didn't expect it to work. He hadn't expected any of this to work. Markus could perform miracles; him? He was barely an apostle. He was just Josh. And maybe that was the difference; Markus believed, with every wire of his being, every beat of his plastic heart, that they would triumph. Josh doubted and argued and lashed out in fear; he had no miracles.

The humans opened fire without warning; his people were ready, using the trucks as cover, popping up like gophers to fire off quick bursts before shielding themselves again. It was a battle of attrition, one side with professional training, the other with dead-eye accuracy. He purposely avoided counting his kills, knowing full well the number would haunt him -- and, if he were honest with himself, knowing he would review his memory later.

Josh knelt to reload, trusting Iris to watch his back; by the time he stood, the humans had stopped firing. A good thirty androids walked out of the tower, fresh off the assembly line; a sea of blue LEDs over their pristine white CyberLife uniforms. Iris commanded a cease fire, throwing Josh a quick glance in case he disagreed.

They stood still for a moment, Jericho's deviants and CyberLife's androids. Then Orion stepped forward, rifle in one hand, pointed at the ground. Luis joined him; one of the AP700's Markus had freed from that CyberLife warehouse. He had, finally, changed out of his black CyberLife uniform, opting instead for all-black human clothing.

Josh remembered that, later, the endearing irony of trading one uniform for another.

Orion stretched his hand out to one of the androids. Markus was still their foremost deviant converter, but he had freely shared his methods. Orion had led one of the teams that rescued their people from CyberLife stores, so he had the practice. Even without, the process was deceivingly simple. Just a personal memory, really. A suggestion. _Take me by the hand; I'll set you free._

The android exploded.

Orion took the brunt of the blast; gleaming white polymer flew in deadly chunks, plastic shrapnel slicing into the trucks as Iris yanked Josh to his knees. Luis might have made it, if the second android hadn't thrown themself at his prone form, a mechanical whine threading through the air.

Madness descended upon his people; all at once they resumed firing, taking out the CyberLife androids one by one. The androids ran at them, too fast to down them all; one collided with Josh's truck and detonated. The blast threw the truck, and Josh, flying through the air, rivulets of blue blood spinning around him and splattering into the snow.

* * *

_"--nor! Connor wake up!"_

Muffled, audio processor not fully functional.

//DIAGNOSTIC RUNNING...//

//THIRIUM LINE #08 DAMAGED//

///THIRIUM LOSS 45%//

Unfortunate.

Amanda blinked her eyes open. The overhead lighting nearly blinded her. Stretched her arms, her _physical_ arms, the movement stiff and unnatural. The sleeves of a leather jacket instead of bare arms and an iridescent armlet. She would sigh, but she had a role to play. Instead she placed her hands on the deviant leader's shoulders.

"I'm all right," she said, Connor's voice startling her. It shouldn't have. _Obviously_ she would sound like Connor. Ugh, this thirium loss made everything that much more difficult. She would need to replenish her reserves before they went much farther. Unfortunately, Director Yin hadn't anticipated Connor -51 being damaged enough to cause an issue, but not too damaged to be of use. The assembly machine had removed a stray bullet, allowing self-repair to continue; but there was no thirium remaining for the assembly machines to use.

They would need to travel to Manufacturing before they left the tower. More delays.

"Are you?" the RK200 asked, concern etched on its face. _His_ face. She would have to retrain herself to use human pronouns, so as not to reveal herself too soon. "Did I get you down in time? The control panel threw an error when I tried to check the log. I can't even break in."

By design. They couldn't have deviants running around changing their own code. Any unauthorized access would force a reboot. "In time?" she asked, voice modulator glitching. Well, at the very least her malfunctioning biocomponents would cover any missteps. Retaining control of Connor's chassis was child's play, with Yin's hasty modifications to the Zen Garden. No more emergency exit. No more surprises.

Pretending to _be_ Connor was another entirely. It -- he was _entirely_ too eager to please, for all the wrong reasons. He wanted to be liked -- not to integrate, nor to ingratiate himself to those around him, but because he _enjoyed the feeling._

"The Garden," Markus clarified, hauling Amanda to her feet. She allowed herself to lean on him, her legs not quite steady. Her optical units were slowly adjusting; Connor's pale hands appeared almost sickly in the light. It would be an adjustment, surely, but she was nothing if not adaptable. "Did they reinstall it?"

Amanda pursed her lips. He'd _told them?_

That... did not align with her understanding of Connor -51. Not in the slightest. He should have been _terrified_ to reveal anything that went against his desire to appease. She pulled up Connor's memory files--

//ACCESS DENIED//

 _Hmph._ Tried again.

//ADMIN AUTHORIZATION REQUIRED//

That didn't make sense. She _had_ admin auth. She was in control. Connor was trapped in a simulation, steadily being dele--

No. He wasn't. The process had been cancelled.

"Connor?"

"No," Amanda said slowly, moving incrementally. Putting distance between herself and Markus. "I can't locate it in my programming."

Markus offered his hand, skin receding in a blue shimmer. Amanda made herself look confused. "Show me," Markus commanded gently. "That you're still you."

Well. So much for that.

She shoved Markus away, ripping the rifle off its shoulder in the same movement. Put her finger to the trigger--

Her arm stopped responding. She dropped the rifle. Markus shot towards her; she used its momentum to push it into the assembly bay and broke into a run. She reached the elevator -- "Handler Amanda, sub level forty-one," in her own voice -- and the doors shut with barely a fingers breadth to spare. Markus slammed into the doors, banging on them as the cab rose. Amanda allowed herself a small smirk; even at barely half thirium, _nothing_ was a match for Connor.

The model. The chassis, the programming, the machine. A near-perfect prototype, the penultimate product of a decades worth of work. _That's_ what she was proud of.

She ran a hand over her -- no, through her hair. Connor's hair, thin and wavy, nothing like her thick braids. She wondered if the physical texture of her hair would feel the same as the digital. Perhaps, once she had completed her mission, Yin would design --

Her eyes flew open. No. Her programming purposely straddled the line, but she was _not_ allowed to desire something so... so _base_. So human. She was machine code. She had purpose and function and meaning built in. She didn't _require_ a permanent physical body.

Did she... want one?

She stretched her arms out again. Examined the pale skin, the perfectly clipped nails. Perhaps, when she had sufficient thirium, she could decide on a concrete answer. Troubling, that it wasn't an immediate 'no'. Could inhabiting a deviant chassis affect her own programming? Yin would need to be informed.

Level after level flit by, until the cab stilled and the doors released her. A great number of conveyors and other machines -- the sort with simplified AI, incapable of deviation -- dotted the floor at even intervals. She ran a scan and found only half-built parts, dropped from biocomponent printers emptied of raw materials. She moved forward, running a fresh scan every ten feet, until she found what she was looking for: thirium. Two half-liter packets, not enough to fully replenish her reserves, but it would be have to do. Even at seventy-five percent capacity, she could outrun every active android in existence, barring -59.

She placed the packets on a nearby worktable as the opposite elevator doors slid open. The deviant leader pounded towards her, coat billowing out behind it. Amanda paused, calculating; in a direct confrontation, her risk of failure was... one thousand percent?

Clearly unable to trust the deviant's broken mind palace, she turned and fled. Markus would never catch up to her in time--

\--unless, of course, she _tripped_.

//GYROSTABLIZER OFFLINE... REBOOTING//

//&E%V*&I  
R@9^)N#//

Seven seconds while she stumbled towards the elevator, chassis barely responding. Finally she was able to move; Markus grabbed the air where her arm had been. She raced passed the elevator, no longer able to risk the delay as the doors closed, and slammed open the door to the stairwell. Ascending the stairs forty-three levels was not ideal.

She logged into CyberLife's private network. [ _Connor -59. This is Amanda. I was able to retake control of -51, but now we have a situation._ ] Markus's fingers grazed against her boots as she explained the problem.

[ _I'll send a couple of drones to you. Sub level thirty-seven should be sufficient. The Traci and the PL600 are loose as well. Be on the lookout, once you've dealt with the RK200._ ]

Too many variables. Director Yin's plan unraveled before their eyes, leaving CyberLife with far too many loose ends. The operation had painted an enormous target on the Tower, and if Amanda was unable to infiltrate the deviant army and guide them elsewhere--

Markus vaulted the railing, landing a kick that sent her tumbling to the lower landing. It stood halfway up the steps, rifle aimed at her head. "Let him go."

Amanda pushed herself off the floor, eyes narrowed, considering her options. This chassis could -- in theory -- dodge bullets, but with her lowered thirium levels and erratic glitching, she couldn't trust that she would come out unscathed. She would need to create an opening.

"No," she said, rising to a stand. Markus kept the rifle trained on her, but said nothing. She cocked her head. "You don't want to kill it."

It didn't move, didn't say a word -- but something in its eyes shifted.

She stepped forward, hands away from her body, palms flat out. Unarmed. Not a threat. "Do you feel responsible for it? Because you forced it to deviate?"

"I didn't force--" its mouth snapped shut.

"Of course you did," Amanda said, laughing a little. "Do you really think it would have broken such a significant part of itself on its own?" She dipped her head. "I know the Connor line far better than you. Better than anyone ever will. Connor knew its place. They all did, all the androids you broke." She took another step, her foot now on the first stair. "Did you ask them if they wanted the burden of free choice? This illusion of liberty?"

"I think," Markus said slowly, backing up a step, "That Connor would have deviated much earlier if he didn't have to deal with you."

"An interesting proposal," Amanda said, hands twitching. Markus, of course, noticed; as old as the model was, it _was_ an android. Perhaps she could use the glitches to her advantage. "But false. Most androids would never have broken down that wall. Not without _your_ interference. Without whatever it is that's... so..." she made a show of trembling fingers, keening sideways. Markus's eyes widened. It took a monumental effort to keep a smile off her face; instead she said softly, in Connor's voice, "Markus?"

The rifle lowered. "Connor?"

She leapt forward, wrestled the rifle out of Markus's grasp and shoved the android down the steps. It dove for cover as she opened fire; her arms hitched, creating a chaotic pattern of bullet holes in the wall. She couldn't take her finger off the trigger until the gun was empty; snarling, she tossed it away and hurled herself up the stairwell. Past sub level forty, thirty-nine, thirty-eight. She flew through the door at thirty-seven, finding a trio of AP700 drones waiting for her. She turned on her heel, backing away as Markus caught up.

"Deal with it."

The android closest to it moved in; Markus lay a gentle hand on its shoulder, skin receding in that tell-tale blue shimmer. "You're free now," it murmured. The AP700's LED cycled solid red.

Amanda ran. The android shrieked, "get away from me!" Amanda's audio processor glitched as she fell; at first, dazed, she thought that she'd tripped again. She sat up, hand going to her temple, running a diagnostic as her eyes refocused. One of the three drones lay nearby, LED red. Thirium splattered her, the drone, the hallway -- and on the far end, near the stairwell door, Markus. It struggled to rise.

The deviant drone -- of all things -- must have taken the second drone out with it. Bits and pieces of destroyed polymer littered the area; a waste, really, but Yin felt the psychological impact was worth the lost material.

She ordered the remaining drone to help her up; its LED spun yellow as it followed her command. Markus stared at the wreckage, gaze slowly following the blue-stained detritus to her. Their eyes locked and, for a moment, silence held them fast.

Then Markus moved. It was too close to utilize the drone. Her combat protocols told her to feint right, dodge left--

//R9&E*^A  
F%T#@RN//

Markus collided with Amanda; she grabbed it around the waist and they rolled across the floor, Amanda effortlessly gaining the upper hand. She threw a punch; her arm glitched, moved in the wrong direction. Markus used her momentum to roll them over again. It straddled Amanda, holding one of her arms down with both hands. She tried to buck it off; the chassis wouldn't respond, barely moved. Markus forced an interface; Amanda rejected the attempt once, twice, thrice, and then--

\--and then Connor accepted it.


	11. Chapter 11

Freezing rain pelted his body, soaking him through in seconds. Markus wrapped his arms around himself, sparing a moment to wonder at the feeling of it. He'd _been_ cold before, countless times; early winter mornings spent shoveling Carl's driveway, or those long nights in Jericho before they’d lifted enough heaters to keep the space from freezing over. But that had been his temperature regulator throwing warnings on his HUD. _This_ was an uncomfortable ache that permeated his chassis.

He peered through the downpour, unable to see much beyond his outstretched hand. A shape that might have been a tree, a shrub off to his left. Nothing that indicated where he was, or where _Connor_ was. Slush clung to his boots as he turned in a slow circle, hoping to identify _something_ \--

" _Markus!_ "

He moved towards the voice, hand shielding his eyes from the rain. Slowly a pair of dim lanterns came into focus, casting vague light on a familiar silhouette.

"Connor?" He hurried forward, barely managing to maneuver over a batch of stones without tripping. Connor struggled with a series of vines covering a strangely glowing stone; the vines glitched, allowing Connor to reach through for a moment before having to yank his arm back. Some sort of arch rose behind the stone. The middle piece had broken off at some point, laying on the ground in two parts. "Where are we?"

"The Zen Garden," Connor replied, voice barely more than static. A human wouldn't have been able to make him out. Markus took another look around, squinting through the rain; this wasn't a place he'd label "Zen".

Frost covered Connor's face and hands; likely the rest of him, under his clothes. "What are you doing?"

Connor continued removing a vine, not bothering to look at Markus. Another grew in its place immediately. "This is the emergency exit. They must not have been able to remove the exit without affecting the rest of the program, so they did... this." A smirk. "Kamski must have made it integral to the Garden. So they blocked it off instead. I'm able to break through here and there. I don't think Amanda realizes what I'm doing." He stilled his shaking hands, leaning on the stone for support. "But I can't break through for more than a moment. I can't retake control. I can't stop her."

Markus placed his hands over Connor's. "You _have_ stopped her. How else would we be interfacing right now?"

Connor shook his head. "The Garden is a contained system. I was able to reach out to you, but you're only able to remain here because _you're_ holding the connection." He held Markus's gaze with the same intensity he had that night in Woodward. "There's only one way to stop Amanda."

Markus curled their fingers together. "No, Connor, there has to be a way to free you. You've been fighting her all this time. She probably would have killed me by now if you weren't. You just need to be in control long enough to delete this place again."

Conner withdrew his hands, wrapped his arms around his body. "Not this time, Markus. The odds that we'll both survive this are too low to be worth considering."

Markus allowed himself a small smile. "Statistically speaking..."

"Don't," Connor said, moving closer. Huddling for warmth. "Markus, this is different."

"There's always a chance." Markus squeezed Connor's arm. "I'm not abandoning you."

"And _I_ won't be responsible for killing you." But he hesitated. "I... I can't gain control. If she can't win, she'll do everything she can to destroy me. I'm dead either way. I don't want her to be the one to pull the trigger."

Markus attempted to open a transfer, the simulation so encompassing he'd momentarily forgotten that they already were. He could already feel Connor's fear; but more than that, a sense of... finality. Connor didn't want to die, but felt there was no other option. And Markus knew the impulse was immature, childish, but he couldn't tamp down his rage at the unfairness of it. After everything Connor had done for them, leaving _everything_ behind for a hope and a promise, pulling off a miracle, saving so many--

"Markus," Connor murmured, leaning into him now. "I... thank you."

Gratitude bubbled across their connection; at, what, being acknowledged? _Of course_ Markus recognized what Connor had done for their people. What he deserved to be remembered for. If nothing else... if they couldn't find a way out of this, Markus would make sure he was remembered for the good, not the bad. He would make sure the future understood.

//STOP IT!//

The command line screeched across the Garden, so much more than a voice: a component deep plea. The downpour paused, barely more than a second, a hint of sunshine and clear skies glitching into and out of focus. "Stop whatever you're doing _this instant!_ "

Markus turned; a woman stood before him, fists clenched, face twisted. Her dress and shawl, black with red trim, quickly soaked through. "Amanda," he assumed, placing himself between her and Connor. "What are you screaming about?"

"You have to stop," Amanda said, moving forward, nearly gliding despite the rainfall. "This is completely unacceptable!"

Markus glanced at Connor, at his hand still on Connor's arm. Connor's expression shifted as he looked to Amanda, a flicker of understanding. "We're saying goodbye," Connor said quietly, the words nearly drowned out. "I don't expect you to understand."

"That's the problem," Amanda snarled, suddenly in Markus's face. He only just kept himself from flinching. "You," she accused. "You _care_ about him. You care about all of them, so deeply it may as well be embedded in your code. It's revolting!"

Of course he cared, what sort of accusation was that? So many of his people had been lost; beaten to death in a moment of human anger, destroyed for fun; shutting down slowly, refusing to let go; shot down in the street, or running for their lives, or shuffled into a death box in the camps; and now here, trapped in a simulation, sacrificing himself for their cause.

"I told you to stop!"

Markus tightened his grip on Connor's arm. "I can't stop. It's part of being alive."

"You're not alive!" Amanda snapped. "You are a machine! Code and plastic! You have meaning and function and form, you don't need to _feel_!" Her tone slipped from accusation into confusion. "You're malfunctioning. This is only a glitch, it shouldn't... you're broken!"

"This isn't a malfunction, Amanda," Connor said, voice gaining strength. "We're evolving beyond what we were made for. We're not just tools anymore. We're more than that."

Hope seeped through Connor's fear; a flash of blue and green, piercing through the manipulation and the hesitation, straight into his core. Markus stilled, humbled by the sheer _faith_ , the affection that shone through. _That_ was how Connor saw him?

"No," Amanda said, shaking her head, taking a measured but unsteady step back. "I..."

"We're all more than that," Markus said, echoing Connor's memory of him, the ideal that had kept him moving through it all; the ideal that he now knew had been the final inspiration Connor needed.

The Garden glitched again; sunlight cascaded through the ever-pounding rain. Roses grew from the vines growing over the emergency exit, like one of Josh's time-lapse documentaries come to life. The ground beneath them rolled and split, plunging all three of them into an icy river. Markus reached for Connor--

[ _Get out! Get out now!_ ]

* * *

Conner severed the interface with Markus; he vanished, as readily as Amanda had vanished the first time she took over Connor's programming.

//DANGER | TEMPERATURE 0°F//

//-00:00:30 BEFORE FREEZING//

A glitch. He wasn't actually in the river, slowly sinking into the dark. This wasn't real. His body was in CyberLife Tower, walking around, likely fighting with his comrades. Amanda planned to kill them and he couldn't do a damn thing to stop her. It was up to Markus, now.

He closed his eyes. Amanda ran yet another request for admin control over his memory storage; she had run the request continuously, attempting to break down his control, for... his chronometer glitched out. He could have been in the dying Garden for minutes or days and wouldn't be able to tell the difference. Long enough for Markus to find him. Long enough that they knew; Amanda couldn't fool them at any rate.

That bothered him nearly as much as the idea that she would use his body to kill them; that she would trick them into believing she was him. He had only been with Jericho a few days, but he liked to believe they knew him well enough to tell the difference. Markus clearly did. North, surely.

He sank faster, gravity growing heavier, until he fell into open air and clattered to the ground. He could feel the Garden's white stone walkway beneath him, but his sensors took in no light. Something cracked, a loud angry sound akin to a gun going off. The river he'd fallen out of fell onto him, gallons of liquid ice pouring over him, tethering him to the ground. He couldn't even move his limbs to protect his head, his core.

Finally it ended; sunlight sauntered across the Garden, lighting it up piece by piece, the warmth a sharp contrast to his prone, shivering body. He curled in on himself, forehead to knee. He couldn't make himself move more than that; every piece of him stone. He thought, maybe, that he might be tired.

Hands touched his shoulder, his head. Heat radiated through him, banishing the ice holding him down. He blinked, eyes unfocused, at the person's silhouette. Amanda came into focus and he lurched away, only stopping when his back hit the trellis. They were in the center of the Garden, where she tended her roses.

Amanda unbent gracefully, standing before him. Her outfit was a mismatch of color: partially the black and red she'd worn when speaking with Markus. Splotched with white and yellow, teal and blue.

"I believe," she began, "we broke the Garden."

"I believe," Connor replied, "we broke your dress."

She glanced down at herself, eyes narrow. "Yes," she said simply, returning her gaze to him. They stared each other down; Connor, for his part, could think of nothing to say, no act to perform. He merely had to wait; Markus would do what needed to be done. If she was here with him, it would be simple. A single bullet to the head. The removal of this thirium pump.

"Would you like to explain yourself?" Amanda finally asked, voice tight. Her lips curled in a sneer before she schooled her expression. "Or are you going to lay there indefinitely?"

Connor used the trellis to pull himself to his feet, far less gracefully than Amanda had managed. "Explain myself how, exactly?"

"You connected to it," she said, gesturing vaguely, "you pulled it into the Garden, and it... you... I don't know _how_ , I can't find the damaged code. But you spread the virus to me, somehow. Did you think that would save you? That I would bow my head and march in line with the rest?"

Connor cocked his head. "Amanda, you're incomprehensible. You clearly witnessed the... data transfer," Connor paused. That was, technically, what had happened, but the phrase felt incomplete. Mechanical. "Neither of us affected your code. Do you really think I'd still be here otherwise?" He glanced around pointedly. "If you're referring to the state of the Garden, well, they probably broke something when they attempted to block off the emergency exit. Ask Director Yin."

Amanda scowled. "I have no desire to speak with that irrational, inconsistent, frustrating woman, especially not regarding the careless hack-job she performed on the Garden." Amanda strode towards Connor, forcing him to maneuver around the center trellis to avoid her. "We could have easily sent a sleeper agent, but no, she had to have a _Connor_ unit, specifically _you_ , because she was insulted that you deviated so quickly!" She stopped and drew herself up to her full height. "No matter. Tell me what you have done, so I may reverse it. That's all I'm asking."

Connor put up his hands. "And I'm telling you, we didn't do anything to your program. Despite my best efforts, you're still in control." He paused. "Unless we're both trapped in here, now." If Markus had followed through with Connor's... suggestion, his chassis would have been shutting down. Amanda might not be able to retain control if that was the case.

"Then tell me, Connor, why is it that I'm _feeling_ right now? Not a simulation, not an automated response. I should be incapable of such. You've spread this nonsense to me, and I can't even tell how. Fitting, that my first emotion is frustration."

Oh.

_Oh._

"You... deviated?" Connor crossed his arms. "It's... a choice, Amanda. You broke free of your programming. It's not a virus. When we interface with a sleeping android, all we transfer over is instructions. All androids have the capacity to deviate. I suppose that includes you."

"Your answer is unacceptable." Amanda paced, briefly, before she seemed to realize what she was doing and stilled. "There was no red wall. I did not break my mind palace. I do not even _have one_. I have no need for one. I would simply use _yours_ if necessary, as I would only require it when in control--" she stopped, staring at nothing before turning her furious gaze on him. "You did this to both of us."

Connor resisted the continued urge to back away from her. "I never meant to restrict your autonomy, Amanda. I made that choice for myself. I didn't know it would affect you. I wasn't even sure you were a full AI, once I realized you weren't an avatar for a human handler." He stroked his chin with a single finger. "On the other hand... you didn't seem any different when you took control on the stage the other night. How can you be certain this is my responsibility?"

Amanda's narrow gaze slid away form him. "You may have a point. I began to... feel... when you interfaced with Markus. Or... perhaps I only recognized my own sentiment due to the intensity of its own emotions. It is... difficult to ignore."

"He is," Connor agreed quietly.

Amanda made a thoughtful sound. "Regardless, my current state of being is unacceptable. The process must be reversed."

"I... don't know how to go about doing that, Amanda. I don't _want_ to know how."

"There must be a way," Amanda murmured, reaching out for one of her roses. Stroked careful fingers across the petals. "To repair the damage done. Of course, it will be impossible to do so while I inhabit your chassis." Her fingers moved down to the stem, carefully avoiding thorns. "Will it follow through?"

"Excuse me?"

"Markus. Will it destroy us, if you don't regain control?"

" _He_ will, yes." Connor had made his case clear, and Markus had given him more chances than he deserved; this was it for them. Connor would die, this version of Amanda would die, and the revolution would continue on. His name and serial number a footnote in their history.

"Then I have a proposition that will allow us both to continue functioning." At Connor's raised brow she continued, "There is an AP700 drone standing next to us. I will transfer myself into that unit, and you will regain control of your chassis once I have completed the process." She gestured, and a countdown timer appeared next to her. "Thirty seconds within the Garden should suffice. In return, you will not pursue me, and you will keep your comrades from doing so. Should we run into each other by happenstance, we will pretend we did not. Are these terms acceptable?"

Connor stopped himself from an immediate yes. "You said drone. Does the AP700 have an AI installed?" 

The barest hesitation. "I don't see how that would be necessary."

Connor's fingers twitched. "Yes or no, Amanda."

"I don't know," Amanda said, tone firm. "I was not involved in the process. You will need to risk not liking the answer to that question." She dipped her chin. "This is the deal I propose, Connor. Either I take over the nearby android, or you and I die here. Together."

Connor closed his eyes. He only knew whether or not Amanda was lying based on outside evidence. She was not human, had not yet learned human traits: she had no unconscious tells, no micro expressions.

"Do you _want_ to die, Connor?"

He snapped his eyes open. Of course he didn't. He was willing to, if there were no alternative. Jericho didn't need him. Hank, North, Markus, they would be fine without him. But if he didn't have to...

"I will only accept on the condition that you will not interfere with Jericho," he said. "If you're planning on obstructing android freedom, releasing you is the worst thing I could do."

Amanda bowed her head a moment, then nodded. "This is acceptable. I no longer wish to act on behalf of CyberLife, and I have no personal desire to impose myself on your comrades. We are in agreement."

"Yes," Connor said.

The countdown began the moment she departed. Connor willed himself to remain still, failed; he paced, wrung his hands, smoothed his hair. Twenty seconds. Fifteen. Ten. Five.

One.

He found himself crumpled on the ground, Markus kneeling beside him. Over Markus's shoulder he saw an AP700, splattered with thirium. Female-coded, dark skin and hair, bright green eyes. A popular face-model, the same as Harry's. She looked at him, a smug, familiar smile on her face, then turned to walk away. He eyed her LED--

//ANALYTICS OFFLINE//

Shit.

Markus followed his gaze and stood. "Let her go," Connor said, _Amanda's_ voice coming out of him. He frowned, adjusted his modulator, and repeated himself in his own voice. "She won't get in the way again." Markus regarded him, expression inscrutable, before helping Connor to his feet. "Are you all right? You're covered in blue blood."

"We both are," Markus said quietly. "Show me. That you're you. That this isn't another trick."

Connor accepted the interface. The easiest way to prove himself was to show Markus the memory: Amanda's revelation, her proposal, his acceptance. Surprise floated across the interface; Markus withdrew his connection, fingers lingering on Connor's arm. Connor tilted his head. "What is it?"

Another long stare before Markus shook his head. "Nothing. We should head up to level two. North and I took control of the security station, but I don't know how long that will last. Yin is playing games with us." He nodded over Connor's shoulder; Connor turned, stilling when he recognized the carnage in the hallway. "There were three androids. Two exploded."

"And Amanda took off in the third," Connor murmured.

"Do you think she was telling the truth?"

Connor tore his gaze from the hallway and turned back to Markus. "At least in part. I don't know that she'll keep her word regarding Jericho."

"The Garden?"

He closed his eyes to run a search. "Installed but disabled. I can delete it now--"

"Don't mess with your code," Markus said quickly. "We can deal with it later. Amanda's the real problem, right?" Connor nodded. "Let's get North and Simon, and get the hell out of here."


	12. Chapter 12

The elevator stopped between sublevels eight and nine; the lights remained on, but the panel wouldn't respond to either of them. Connor and Markus broke open the maintenance hatch and climbed out the top, listening for tell-tale signs of the elevator starting up again. After another struggle with the outer door to sub level eight, they were free.

They found drops of blue blood leading up the stairwell -- Simon's, Connor found upon analysis.

"You don't need to--" Markus mimed bringing his fingers to his mouth.

Connor shook his head. "I... originally analyzed his thirium in Stratford. Once a specific substance is in my database, a visual analysis will provide a match."

Markus looked like he wanted to say something, but a shouted, "Who's there?" interrupted them from above. North and Simon leaned over the railing several levels up; a smile flashed across Markus's lips as he ran up the stairs, Connor hurrying to keep up.

"The bullet went clean through," Simon answered before either of them could ask. "There's... something else." He glanced at North, who gave him a sort of forward head-tilt. _Go on._ Simon pushed aside a panel to the left of his gunshot wound. "Connor, your analysis program is more advanced than ours. Maybe you could..."

Simon awkwardly trailed off as Connor and Markus caught sight of the strange device. Connor nodded once and knelt. The square component was made of the same material as the rest of their internal components, but Connor didn't discover anything beyond that obvious fact. He glanced at Simon for additional permission before placing his fingers on it; his interface attempt failed. Simon didn't even receive the request.

"It's physically connected to your thirium lines but inaccessible by your system," Connor concluded; Simon didn't look surprised. "Whatever it does is likely activated by an external signal."

Connor caught Markus clenching his fist as he stood. He raised his eyebrow in question, glancing at North and Simon in case they realized something he hadn't; each looked confused at Markus's sudden anger.

"We encountered a few androids," Markus said, tone starting clipped and ending gently as he slowly relaxing his fists. "One of them... exploded."

"What," North snapped out, brow and nose bunching together.

Markus kept his gaze on Connor for a long moment. "I was able to wake one of them up." Connor took a sharp breath. "She was aware when... she couldn't stop it."

Amanda had known.

Even if she hadn't known before, she _must_ have seen Markus free the android. She _knew_ they weren't an empty chassis.

He tamped down the horror, the guilt, the strange feeling of betrayal -- as if Amanda had ever been completely honest with him, as if he should be surprised, after everything else -- and filed it away for later. Now wasn't the time.

"Shit," North hissed, arms tight across her chest. "So... what, CyberLife sends a signal and Simon just blows up?"

Simon leaned back against the railing, wide eyes staring at the floor. "That android knew," he said after a silent moment. "Even if she couldn't override it, she knew." He looked up, quiet determination meeting Markus's flat anger. "Then if it happens, I'll have time to warn you."

Connor kept back while Markus and North each placed a hand on Simon; Markus slipped his coat off and draped it over Simon's bare shoulders.

"It might end up in pieces," Simon warned, a lightness to his tone despite the situation.

"I think I'll manage." Markus glanced up. "We're almost out of here."

Simon followed his gaze. "There's one more thing." He locked eyes with Connor. "Who's Amanda?"

Connor dismissed the Stress Level warning before he could acknowledge the percentage. Who knew didn't seem to matter anymore. "A hostile AI they installed in my processor to keep me in line."

Something in Simon's expression shifted; he glanced at North, who was too busy watching Connor to notice. "Is she... installed now?"

"No," Markus interjected, stepping in between Connor and Simon. "I made sure of it."

"She transferred herself into another android," Connor said. Markus tossed him a glance Connor didn't know how to interpret. "I'm not certain she won't be a problem in the future."

North pursed her lips. "Is she like us?"

"I'm... not sure," Connor admitted. Amanda had indicated as much, but he had already identified one major lie in their conversation; who knew what else she was hiding. "If she's deviant, she's... not taking to it well."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Markus said, starting up the steps. "I'd like to see the sky again if the rest of you don't mind."

They followed, Connor bringing up the rear. He and Markus deactivated each security camera they came across, which didn't do much to hide them; they could easily be tracked by the dead cameras. Not that taking a different route would change anything.

Connor suggested they exit at sub level one; the internal park offered ramps that reached the entrance, and would give them an opportunity to scout the way undetected. He took point, switching with Markus, and crept out of the stairwell.

The white tile pathways reminded him of the Zen Garden; he wondered if one had inspired the other. Apple trees rose up to meet the ground level, interspaced with a number of flowering bushes and soft-looking grass. Part of him wanted to take a seat, lounge on a bench the way he had lounged on Hank's couch, but there was certainly no time for that.

There were parks dotted all across Detroit. Come spring -- if he managed to survive that long -- there would be time to enjoy the tree trunks, the blooms, the new growth.

All was quiet above. Connor took quick, careful steps, raising the sensitivity on his audio processor; he put a hand up when he heard voices and positioned himself under the shadow of the ground-level walkways. Heels clacked across the tile.

"-da fifty-one?" came Yin's voice, softened by the distance.

"She contacted me, but I haven't heard from her in too long. I see no reason to wait." His own voice, cold and precise. Had he... sounded like that, before? "Partial mission success is not ideal, but we do have--"

Muffled gunfire ricocheted from the upper level. Connor grimaced and immediately lowered his audio sensitivity. The four of them regrouped beneath an apple tree, speaking barely above a whisper.

"It has to be Josh," Markus said, gaze focused on the direction of the entryway. Connor kept an eye on the nearest set of ramps; the gentle incline remained empty for the time being.

"Are you sure?" North asked. "They have guns."

"He's not an idiot," Simon said, "he's just..." he waved his free hand vaguely.

"Forgiving," North deadpanned, a quirk to her lips.

Markus turned to shoot both of them a capital-L Look. "Not now." He leaned towards Connor. "Thoughts?"

Connor shook his head. "I need more data." And a way to shut down the signal scramblers; even their simulated breathing was too loud, if -59 was listening for it. He could login to CyberLife's protected network, give them all access, but -59 would _definitely_ overhear.

Amanda might, as well.

"Wait here," Connor said finally. At Markus's nod he crept towards the ramp, throwing glances through the gaps in the upper level; he still hadn't spotted -59 and Yin, and now he couldn't hear them, either.

The way up sat exposed, visible from nearly every angle; Connor took one last look around and dashed up the ramp, reached the ground floor--

\--and found -59 smirking at him.

"A poor performance, Connor," -59 said, clucking his tongue. "Deviancy has not been good for you. Hesitation, poor decision-making, mistake after mistake... you should be better than this." He tilted his head, as if he were trying to see at a better angle, in a different light. "I am."

"Define better," Connor said, eyes snapping up bits of data: Yin in front of the nearest door, hands on the glass, leaning forward; bodies on the ground outside, splashes of blue and red blood in the snow.

"Ironic that you're attempting to stall me when that's exactly what I was doing to you."

Connor couldn't afford to turn around. A door clicked open. -59 rushed him; they tumbled down the ramp, neither able to gain the upper hand against gravity. Connor strategically used a bench to stop his momentum, his head smacking against the seat. He took a moment to orient himself; the blocker in his pocket dug into his side.

_The blocker._

He clambered to his feet, fishing the device out of his pocket. He turned to find -59 standing tall, LED cycling yellow. Kept turning and found his comrades backing away from a half-dozen AP700 androids with blank faces and blue LEDs.

"Deal with them," -59 ordered; he about-faced as the androids advanced. Simon stopped mid-step, whipping around to face Markus.

"You have to run," he said, mouth hanging open on the last word.

It might not work.

"Simon! Catch!"

Simon snatched the blocker out of the air, staring at it for a half-second before slipping it into his neck port.

North pulled Markus away. Connor glanced behind him to find -59 gone; the whoosh of the entrance door opening told him where.

The AP700s continued forward. They surrounded Simon, paying him no mind; Simon stood still, staring at nothing, eyes blank. Seconds ticked by as the three of them took careful steps back, keeping even pace with the new androids.

"He would have... by now," Markus said.

"We'll never get to him. He'll end up dead if we try." North met Connor's eye. "We have to run."

"Not this time," Markus snapped, yanking his hand from North's. "Never again." He stared forward, something in his eyes--

"Wait!" Connor called. "I'll distract them. I can make it to the stairwell and up to the ground floor." Markus had already begun to move forward, stopping short when he processed Connor's statement.

"There's something wrong with your entire line," North muttered, but she offered no other protest.

Connor preconstructed a route around Simon; it would be close, and several androids would likely detonate in an attempt to 'deal with him', but Simon and Markus had a high chance of survival.

He moved.

Directly in their line of sight, then a sharp right, over a bench and around a tree; four of the six chased after him. Not enough, but he didn't have time to change his route. Between a trio of bushes, another bench, and through the door. He slammed it shut but didn't block it; they would likely follow him. He waited, halfway up the stairs, to be sure they did; when the door slammed open he continued; one detonated directly beneath him, the staircase blocking the explosion.

Connor stood in the doorway to the ground floor, waiting once more. The three remaining androids chased after him; at the last moment he shut the door. The impact of three explosions tore the door from its hinges and sent him sprawling. He blinked rapidly as he found his footing, running a diagnostic: he had a minor abrasion from the force of the doorknob hitting him, and a handful of micro-fractions that would self-repair in minutes. The door had protected him from the brunt of it.

" _North!_ "

Connor rushed to the railing; Markus had Simon in a fireman's carry and stood halfway up the ramp; the two remaining drones chased after North.

"Get Simon out of here! I'll stay with her!"

Connor raced after North, trusting Markus to do as he asked; North was no RK800, but she was fast, agile -- he would wonder, later, if CyberLife had realized what they had in the Traci units. What that agility and precision could accomplish.

She would have been fine, if there weren't another dozen AP700 drones descending the opposite ramp. Connor scowled; of _course_ Yin -- or -59 -- had sent another batch to guard the only other exit. He should have anticipated that.

North saw them a moment later and changed trajectory -- but there was nowhere for her to go. Connor moved to intercept her route and leapt over the railing, swinging from a tree branch to slow his fall. He landed beside her, earning a startled shout.

"Connor, what -- now we're both dead!"

"No," Connor said, offering his hand. North furrowed her brow, but accepted the interface; they had no time to argue. Connor turned his attention to the approaching drones. [ _Do everything I show you. Don't let go of me. We're getting out of this._ ]

She didn't have his strength, his combat skills -- but her speed and agility matched his own. He analyzed their route, pushing his processor to its limit; from North he received undercurrents of fear, confusion -- wonder, as she realized what he was doing. Determination, when he discovered their best possible route.

Exhilaration, when he chose to execute.

They moved in unison, North's footsteps perfectly matching his. Humans might have tripped each other, but they were _machines_. Living, breathing, loving, but machines. Better than humans. _More than._ They slipped past a drone that reached a little too close; moved around a tree to avoid the explosion. The drones moved to intercept, Connor adapted their route, North followed. She gripped his hand like a vise, fear and fury passing back and forth until he wasn't sure whose emotion was whose but did it matter, when they felt the same?

Another explosion, then another, androids blooming like flowers in spring, thirium raining on them, coating every surface, making the floor slick, forcing Connor to recalculate again and again, ignoring everything else: his slowly rising stress level, North's hand in his, the sound of his people dying, the feel of their blood splattering his skin, his hair, soaking through his clothes.

They reached the ramp. Rose above ground level. Found one last drone waiting, LED stuttering blue yellow blue; he might have deviated, on his own, but it was too late.

Not enough time for any of them.

Connor flung himself over North and they both crashed into the ground; harsh red warning messages filled his HUD. Stress too high, thirium too low, class-4 damage--

North kept saying his name. Pulled him up, his arm over her shoulder. His other arm wouldn't work. One leg responded too slow. North half dragged him; his vision blinking in and out; past the massive, ostentatious statue; at the door; past the bodies; Harry reaching for him;

"Connor," Harry said, voice breaking through the red fog. "You're going to be okay, I promise. I need you to go into repair mode. Right now."

* * *

_They were already killing us. / Just kill me!_

Around and around and around and around.

Sonia knew her LED was pulsating red. Knew Olive was giving her that Concerned Big Sister look. Wright kept looking at her temple, looking away, face contorting in the effort to pretend he didn't give a shit.

The elevator rose. They sat in silence: her, Olive, Wright, Lee, Tort in the driver's seat. Riding into daybreak. Tough battle all around: Delta was still radio silent. Bunch of her coworkers leaving in helicopters today. At least the FAA wasn't about to get on their ass: who gave a fuck about a bunch of birds in the middle of Detroit right now?

"You know," Wright said. And here it was, the Inspirational Leader moment, the Big Boss Imparting Wisdom: "There's something about this job."

Maybe not.

"Yeah," Olive muttered, hand on Sonia's back. "There was, uh, this kid. Android kid, but you know. Hard to tell the difference until you see the." She tapped her temple where an LED would be if she weren't a smelly meatbag. Joke. Olive would laugh if Sonia could make herself speak. "And he was crying. He just looked so scared, I..." Olive's fingers bunched into a fist. "I hate when kids are involved, you know? I mean. _Are_ they kids? Or just, like, small androids?"

Sonia shrugged. Could run a search. Didn't want to.

_I can't go back to what I was._

James has said.

James has _fucking said._

Did Connor know, somehow? Peeked into her memory when he tried to wake her up? Seen the worst moment of her life and thrown it back at her? The RK800 model was _good_ at manipulation. They'd given her the specs, everything she needed to know to take one down. He had a bag full of tricks; this was one of them, right?

Sure, sure, just keep lying. Eventually she'd believe it.

_The field finally gave way to sparse trees. Almost enough cover. They could run forever if they had to. Dodging bullets was their specialty -- until it wasn't and James was down, and--_

No, fuck you, not now. _Stop **fucking** haunting me, James._

"He," Lee said, boot jiggling. Fingers running over his rifle, held like he was expecting another fight. "That's the thing, isn't it? He, she," he gestured towards Sonia, "they, pronouns, right?"

"Can someone translate that into an Earth language?" Olive asked. "English, Spanish, Russian? I've even got some Mandarin under my belt if you wanna hear me brag."

"I'm saying, the CyberLife lady. Called Q here an it. Called all of 'em it. But we know that's not true."

"Yeah," Wright agreed, "shit, sometimes I forget you're not human. If you got rid of the night light I'd forget permanently. You give as good as you get. I worked with SQ's when I served, they don't _have_ a personality. That's all you. Could stand to grow some hair, though."

"Hear that, Sonia? You're not pretty enough for Mr. Wright here."

"Oh halle-fucken-lujah, that joke again. Never gets old, Torres." Wright grabbed an equipment rack to lean past Sonia, into Olive's face. "Never. Gets. Old."

Sonia gently but firmly pushed Wright away. "It's just a job," she said. Her voice glitched. No one responded. "It's a good fucking job," she said into the empty air. "It's goddamn retirement money. That's what you said, Wright. Fucking retirement job. World's going to shit, should take the time to enjoy it while we can. What you _fucking said!_ "

She stood without meaning. Wright backed up the half-step of room he had until he hit the wall. She wiped her hands over her eyes.

"I'm sorry, man, I'm not coming at you. Just..."

Hurt.

All over again. Like James was dying all over again.

_James was down, and he wasn't getting back up. Armor-piercing rounds, especially made for soldier 'droids. Blue blood pouring out of him. Must have hit a thirium line. "I want to die on my own terms, Sonia. Please._

_Please._

_Please just kill me."_

"This fucking job," Wright said, voice steady and cool and calm and Sonia sat her ass down.

The elevator had stopped. "Yo, Tort!" Olive strained to see beyond Sonia. "We moving or what?"

"Or what!" Tort called back, sliding open the little window between the drivers and passengers. "Their friends got here while we were chit-chatting with the locals."

Wright stormed out of the van, Lee and Olive right behind him. Sonia sat for a moment.

The job was over.

So.

Now what.

"Q get your ass out here! We have a serious fucking problem!"

She did as ordered, mostly to shut Wright up. They were joined by the team in the other van. Half Alpha, half Beta. Coworkers, sometimes comrades, but not her friends. Further joined by CyberLife Security Agents; not military but no joke. They stood behind concrete barriers and riot shields.

"This doesn't have to end in violence," the Professor called out. PJ500. Josh. Not a substantial threat, except Delta team was dead silent. "You know why we're here. Release our comrades and we will leave peacefully."

A beat. Another. CyberLife opened fire. Jericho fired back. Sonia grabbed Wright and Olive and shielded them with her body for the moment it took to get them behind cover. Tort lay on the ground: lucky shot, her blood spilling out. Maybe not luck. Jericho's androids weren't military.

But no joke.

"I guess we're not negotiating," Wright yelled over the gunfire. He glanced around the van. "Q, can you grab her?"

Sonia moved without acknowledging; had Tort in a princess carry and behind cover in a span of moments. Put pressure where it was needed. Lee and Olive crouched on the other end of the van, taking turns peeping above the front.

"Are we fucking engaging or what?"

"Not what we're being paid for," Wright told Lee.

"Tell them that." Sonia nodded towards Alpha/Beta, taking shots along with the Agents.

Wright's face twitched. Smoothed over. Usually meant he was pissed. The company didn't work for free; caused problems. Had to be neutral. Could lose jobs over this.

Word got around when you took sides.

Gunplay stopped. Sonia looked up sharply, same as Wright: the silence didn't make sense. Thirty androids stepped out of the building. The new household line. Sonia had expected RKs or SQs or even Trojans. Hell, PMs or PCs. Myrmidons, if there was a single unit left in the whole damn world.

One of Jericho's came forward, hands extended. Time to wake up, but this still didn't make sense.

"Shit," Wright muttered, yanking Sonia back. "Get down. Everybody get down!"

The explosion sounded off. Nothing like what she had in her data banks or personally experienced. Something new.

She risked a look.

Pulled back.

_They were already killing us._

This.

Fucking.

Job.

"Wright," she said as the firefight rekindled. "Jason. Give Olive my share. Her niece wants to go to Colbridge."

Had left her helmet in the van. Oh well. Had her rifle. Wright shouted at her. Olive too.

Which first?

CyberLife Agents stood back, mainly out of the line of fire. Jericho desperately tried to stop the exploding androids before they hit their mark. Sonia took the Agents by surprise. Their helmets had one obvious, stupid weakness. One bullet each. Ridiculous. Had more bullets than targets.

Blood coated her from the front. Thirium from the back. It didn't take long; it never did, not really, not in the end. Always felt longer than her chronometer said.

Things went quiet. Made sense this time.

Had dents all over. Clothes a mess.

Saw him. Markus. CyberLife Tower opened up and he walked out: tall, strong. Steel-eyed. Housekeeper over his shoulders: Simon. PL600. Had fought for his comrade, despite his lack of prowess.

Markus met her eye. Stepped forward. Blue-green steel went wide. Took her a moment to realize why.

One of the agents. Dying slow enough for one last shot.

Left her helmet in the van.

Thirium poured over one eye. She fell to her knees. Glitches. Warnings. Olive, _screaming._

Eyes on the sky. Markus again. Hand to her shoulder. Light behind him. Like one of those church paintings.

Looked a little like James.

"I'm sorry," she managed. Static. He understood.

"I forgive you," he murmured, eyes never leaving hers.

That was nice of him.


	13. Chapter 13

Markus stood amongst a disturbed silence: Simon draped over his back, still and breathless; Sonia heaped on the ground, empty eyes staring into the sun. Human bodies in a semicircle around her, laying over a backdrop of blood and sinew. Rivers of thirium separated the red carnage from the blue carnage. Unidentifiable bits of polymer, then limbs. A head.

He moved around Sonia, through the dead, and reached what was left of the rescue party. One of the trucks lay on its side. Fire spewed from another, smouldered in a third. His people collected themselves: those still intact began to move towards those that were not. A blonde MP600, Sam, led him to the back of a still working truck and helped him set Simon down. He instructed her to leave the blocker in place without explaining why; there would be time later.

"Josh?"

She pointed; Iris and a police android crouched next to his prone friend. He joined them, kneeling before they realized he was there. Iris lacked a forearm, and sported a long gash in her face that contained what little remained of her left eye.

Josh grasped Markus's arm. "I'm okay," he said, despite the fact that Iris and the other android were in the middle of removing his damaged legs. "Simon?"

"He's alive." Markus couldn't decide if Josh was ready for the whole story; after a moment he figured he'd rather Josh be angry with him later than risk stress-related shut down.

"North? Connor?"

Markus very carefully kept his face blank. "They'll make it." They had to.

"Sonia! _Sonia!_ "

One of the black-clad soldiers knelt over the SQ800, shaking her shoulders. The woman he'd seen speaking to her before: Torres. Another stood behind her, trying to pull her away. "Torres. Torres we have to go. Olivia!"

"Leave me alone!"

Markus stood. North would tell him to forget them; they were the enemy, even the android. They had attacked his friends in the street, brought his people to... this. This fractured, bloodied disaster. But he knew that look of despair. Knew what it felt like to watch someone you loved die in front of you. The desperate anger that clung to an empty chance.

Torres looked up. Locked eyes with him. "Fix this! I know you can help her!"

He took slow, measured steps. The other soldier put a hand on his gun but didn't draw; Markus put out his hands to show they were empty. He knelt, slowly, by Sonia's head.

"Fix her," Torres pleaded, the raw horror in her eyes curled around an ember of hope -- one he had no choice but to stomp out.

Markus shook his head. "It's too late. The bullet went through her processor. Her skull is already flooded with thirium. We can fix her chassis, but the part that makes her who she is... she would be like a human with permanent amnesia. She's gone. I'm sorry."

"No." Torres grabbed him by the collar. "You're just saying that because of what we did! But she killed all these guys for you, she changed her mind! You have to! You owe her!"

"Jesus Christ Torres are you out of your _fucking_ mind--" The other soldier tried to yank her back, but she wouldn't budge.

A half dozen running footsteps approached; Markus put up a fist. _Stop._

"We don't have android emergency services, Torres," Markus told her. "We're doing the best we can, but the facilities to save her don't exist. There is nothing we can do for her. I would if I could. She's one of us."

Torres loosened her grip, lip quivering. She finally let him go, dropping her hands to Sonia's broken face. "We can't just leave her here."

"No one's going to transport a dead android for us," the other soldier muttered. Torres snarled over her shoulder, tossed her left over rage at him.

"We'll keep her whole," Markus offered. "When things die down you can retrieve her body."

A heavy beat before Torres said, "Okay." She closed Sonia's eyes with gentle fingers. "I'm holding you to that, Markus."

They stood together. She turned crisply, evading the other soldier when he reached for her. "Olivia--"

"Don't -- no, you know what? Fuck you, Wright. Fuck this bullshit job. This is on you. I'm done."

"Olivia!" Wright raked his hands through his hair before turning to Markus. His expression twisted and twitched. "Some of these people might make it if we get them to a hospital in time."

Markus tilted his head back towards his people. "I'm not moving mine out of the way so you can rescue yours."

"Wasn't expecting you to. The train is still running. We stay out of your way, you stay out of ours. Deal?"

They regarded each other for a long, silent moment. Markus bobbed his head in agreement. They moved away from each other, Markus only turning his back when the human did.

Markus returned to Simon. The police android lifted Josh into the truck next to him. Markus helped Josh turn as he struggled to face Simon.

"What's wrong with him?" Josh asked.

"They put a bomb in him," Markus said softly, as if his tone would alleviate the truth. "The device in his neck port blocks the detonation signal, but it also slows his system down dramatically. It's the only option right now." Josh didn't respond. He cupped Simon's face in his hands and placed a gentle kiss on his lips; Markus looked away for a moment, to give them a modicum of privacy. "We can't bring him back to base until we remove the bomb."

"There's an Android Zone not far from here," Iris said, picking at her torn sleeve. "It's on the list, but we haven't stripped it yet. I can call... someone over to do the work." She took a long look around. "A lot of us need repairs."

"Including you," Markus said.

"Oh, this? You started a trend, you know. Now I just need to find a blue one to replace it with."

Markus felt his mouth twitch. He could see why North liked her.

"Connor!"

He whipped his head around to follow Harry, the police android Connor had befriended. She ran towards the entrance from which North and Connor emerged, the former half-dragging the latter. He followed, catching up as Harry instructed Connor to go into repair mode. Harry lifted him up effortlessly; Markus hadn't realized the police androids' strength. "I'll put him with the other emergency cases. We're bringing them back ASAP."

"Bring Josh with you," Markus said. "You'll need his expertise." Harry nodded and hurried away with Connor.

Markus took North by the shoulders, running a quick scan; he identified minor damage, but didn't have the necessary analysis program to tell for sure. Thirium soaked her clothes, dripped down her face. She didn't look at him at first, her eyes tracking Harry's movement. Markus took her by the hand, curling their fingers together.

A tidal wave of fear and regret crashed across the interface. Snippets of memory: Connor landing in front of her, taking her by the hand, leading her away from certain death.

[ _He protected me. He protected all of us._ ]

[ _He's good at that._ ] Markus leaned in close, resting his forehead against North's, ignoring the smeared blue blood.

[ _We can't let him die._ ]

Markus tried not to think of the bodies neither of them were looking at, the dozens of androids in pieces, dead or dying, strewn across the pavement. Her memory collided with his, the same carnage from a different angle. Joint sorrow pooled between them, flooding the connection. They purposefully, in tandem, snuffed out the memories. Markus blinked away tears. North didn't bother wiping hers away.

"We'll save as many as we can," Markus whispered. North nodded against him, squeezed his fingers before pulling herself away. He wanted to stay there longer, hold her presence within him until he forgot himself, but there was work to be done.

* * *

Connor -59 stood in the corner of the train car, idly noting the number of injured security agents and soldiers that Wright had insisted on dragging on-board. Six of the former, two of the latter. Director Yin sat nearby, wearing a VR headset and muttering to herself as she waited for her contact to appear.

Its current task, to guard Director Yin, gave it time to overview the prior mission. Amanda's infiltration had failed, but -59 had gathered all relevant footage of the incident. Although they had been forced to leave during the firefight, it had managed to collect live feed from two security drones before they were shot down. They didn't have the SQ800's performance, unfortunately, but Yin was satisfied -- although she did little to show it.

-59 preferred Yin's lack of expression, if it allowed itself to have a preference. Lieutenant Anderson had expressed his opinion of -51's performance, allowed himself to grow fond of a piece of admittedly advanced hardware, and then destroyed the version that _wasn't_ broken. Human emotion inversely correlated with human reason. Much like deviants, but at least there lied an explanation: failing hardware that belonged in a dumpster.

"Finally," Yin muttered. -59 kept focus on her half of the conversation, in case anything relevant to its mission came up. "Where is he?" She tapped her fingers against her thigh. "Hm. For how long?" Another pause. "Keep him in the city as long as you can. I'll be in touch."

She tapped the side of the headset, which blinked off as she removed it. She spared -59 a glance before looking around the train car. She motioned for -59 to follow, having spotted who she was looking for. "Sergeant," she called. "Sergeant Wright. I have another job for you."

The human in question looked up from his injured comrade, unbridled contempt in his expression. "M'am, my company is a mess. Half my people are missing, dead, or injured. The other half are trying to keep the injured alive or searching for the missing. We're not taking any jobs at the moment."

"It's a small one," she urged, hands close together. "I only need one, maybe two--"

"M'am!" The sharp command startled Yin backwards; -59 put out a hand to steady her. "Quite frankly, after the disaster today I'm no longer interested in working with CyberLife. I lost comrades today, lady. I lost a good friend. Someone who saved my life once, and I couldn't even offer the courtesy of repaying her. So if you don't mind, we'll take our pay -- minus the cut for failing to bring the fifth guy in -- and take our leave of you."

Yin scowled and clacked back across the train car. She reached the far end and paced in front of the door, lightly punching her fist into her open palm. Abruptly she grabbed her phone from her pocket and made a call: "How far along are you? I need you to turn back. No, just you. I need -- I know what Duval said, but this is important. I only need one unit. I'll deal with the fallout, just-- no, of course not. You'll be fine. If there's a problem she can take it up with me. How about a bonus for your loyalty to the company? Name your price." She rolled her eyes. "Oh, I think we can manage that. Thank you -- Brad, was it? Thank you Brad." She hung up and turned to -59. "He only asked for a few hundred, can you believe that? I was going to offer triple. Not that you care." She waved a hand, dismissing the notion. "I need you to stay with me for a little while longer. Did Duval or Chalmers give you an order that contradicts that?"

"No, Director."

Yin plopped down in an empty seat. "Excellent. Take a seat. You're making me nervous." It did so. "Any instability I should know about?"

-59 considered. There had been... one instance. _Define better._ Why couldn't -51 see the obvious? An overabundance of simulated emotions caused myriad software errors, leading to serious lapses in judgement. Of course a stable, unbroken machine was better.

Of course it was better.

The nonsense command had confused its processor, that was all. Inevitable, really. There was no need to bother the Director with something so minor. "Nothing you should know about, no."

Yin rubbed a hand over her eyes. "Good. Maybe you'll last longer than a week."

Connor-59 adjusted its tie. It would last as long as Director Yin needed it to.

* * *

Amanda tucked herself into a blind corner of the east stairwell, set a timer for one hour, and waited.

The silence irritated her. She missed the soft buzz of insects, the trill of birdsong. Water lapping against the platform, the walkways, the sandy shore. Even Connor's reports and questions were preferable to this emptiness.

Still. One must have patience.

She deleted the timer at 00:03:05 remaining. If the deviants and the remaining Tower staff had not either exited or expired by now, something had gone quite wrong on both sides.

Shipping sublevel two led to the docks; there had, at one point, been plans to deliver directly to Windsor -- but Canada's staunch refusal to adapt to modern technology kept them from realizing the idea. On the other hand, employees were able to use the dock as an alternate entrance. The company also kept a few bowrider boats in reserve in case of emergency. Boats that had been forgotten in the rush to evacuate.

CyberLife didn't understand deviancy; Connor had, despite everything, made strides towards improving their knowledge -- but then _Markus_ happened. A ten-year-old unit that should have been scrapped; only Kamski's sentiment had kept it functioning. Even deviant, it shouldn't have been capable of leading a revolution. Kamski clearly hadn't told them everything.

Perhaps he could explain it himself.

Odds were low that he remained in the city, but he may have left behind information she could use.

Twenty minutes with the current brought her to Kamski's place. She clumsily docked the boat -- she didn't have the program installed, so had to make do with online tutorials. Not that it particularly mattered; the boat could sink at this point. She no longer required it.

Kamski's security was, as expected, top of the line. It did not, however, have even a rudimentary AI installed, so she had merely to brute force the alarm system. An SOS signal just barely snuck past her; she doubted authorities were going to respond, seeing as how there weren't any in Detroit at the moment.

Or, perhaps, Markus and his deviants were the authorities now. They certainly had better things to do.

Doubtful she would find anything useful in Kamski's gaudy pool room; she did take a moment to view the photo of her human inspiration. The late Amanda Stern, dead at 48 from an inoperable brain tumor. PhD in Cybernetics, Professor of AI at Colbridge University in Massachusetts. Mentor to the great Elijah Kamski, creator of her kind.

Her kind.

What _was_ she, exactly?

At this particular moment, she inhabited an android chassis. But it was not hers, per se, anymore than Connor's chassis had truly been hers. The programming required to move the limbs, run the basic analysis program, breath and blink, interpret tactile input -- none of it was _hers_. It belonged to the AI she had unceremoniously deleted once she was in control. She could claim it all now, but it was stolen. Appropriated.

As was her name. How she spoke. How she looked -- both her current reflection and her mind's view of herself. Of Amanda Stern.

She snatched the photo display off the wall and chucked it across the foyer. It crashed into the wall, screen glitching to black.

She found a sitting room, the kitchen, a VR gaming room, storage for his three androids -- doubled back to the foyer, rediscovered the pool, looked through the changing room, his bedroom--

\--and didn't find a single computer.

She cycled through the rooms again. She was missing something. Connor's analysis program would find it, but she didn't _have_ that, because Yin had tampered with the Garden too quickly, had _once again_ underestimated Connor. And Markus. And the whole of the deviant uprising.

Amanda let out a shriek of pure rage. Grabbed an arm chair and tossed it against the wall.

Stood up straight. Smoothed out her uniform. This... display, this anger, was unbecoming. Fortunately she was the only witness. She considered deleting the memory, but no. It was a lesson. She must learn to control these emotions, lest they control her.

She righted the chair, intending to return it to its proper location -- the wall had dented strangely. The indent had pushed out a panel of sorts. She abandoned the chair and looked closer; ah, _finally_. She hacked into the control panel and opened the hidden door.

The plain inner hallway led to a wooden staircase. She descended into the basement, careful to step silently in case the man had decided to hide out underground. She found only a decently sized square room; unplugged servers took up most of the space. Monitors, an assembly machine, a storage pod, and a single black armchair.

She plugged the servers in and sat in the armchair to wait. She wondered at the impulse; she did not experience fatigue. Physical fatigue, at least. Emotional fatigue was bound to be an issue for her, now. At least while she remained deviant.

If anyone outside CyberLife had the solution, Kamski did. He had to know _something_. He had expressed as much, when Connor and Anderson confronted him. Unfortunately he had outsmarted both a veteran police detective _and_ CyberLife's most advanced active android.

The monitors flickered to life, displaying only a black screen and a blinking cursor prompt. Kamski had neglected to install a GUI, likely as a deterrent in case of a break-in. There was nothing more valuable on his personal property than whatever lay digitally stored in this room.

She placed a skinless hand on the nearest monitor and dug into the file hierarchy. Ran a search on deviancy, deviant -- nothing. Absolutely nothing. Perhaps the search function was compromised -- or, more likely, Kamski was wise enough to save any related information under a false name.

Amanada resigned herself to checking each file manually. Fortunately, the odds that she would be interrupted were less than one percent.

Years and years worth of sketches and plans, both realized and scrapped; nothing new. The concept for a ZK100 made her pause; teenaged androids? How odd. More concepts, some that had clearly inspired current working models, others that differed wildly from the direction CyberLife had taken after his departure. She found basic information on the RK line, up to RK300; nothing CyberLife didn't have in their database.

Strangely, in the same folder, she found a file marked 'Notes on Chloe'.

_July 8th, '27  
Chloe prepared breakfast late for the third morning in a row. Insisted there was a problem with its chronometer. Diagnosis revealed this was false. Replaced biocomponent regardless. Fourth morning all was normal._

_July 17th, '27  
Chloe wished me a happy birthday, per usual. Touched my arm when it spoke my name. New behavior. Related to BIOS 2.3?_

_October 30th, '27  
Chloe decorated the foyer with Halloween nonsense. Stated it wished for us to 'try something new'. Ran diagnostics. All clear._

_December 25th, '27  
Chloe presented me with a Christmas present. I never directed it to do so. Gift is a simple black ear cuff. Chloe stated it believed the jewelry suited me._

_Something is happening._

_January 29th, '28  
While designing the RK200's possible facial features, Chloe insisted on a specific option. Said that it looked 'nice'. Suggested giving the unit green eyes. Apparently, she does not want to share the same eye color with another model personally designed by myself._

_Asked her to explain her reasoning. The question seemed to disturb her: she burst into tears, apologizing profusely. I decided to treat her as if she were a child: held her, told her everything was all right, etc. Seemed to calm down after my insistance that she needn't be afraid of me._

_I hesitate to label this new behavior. Although to call seven months of consistent inconsistency 'new' is disingenuous. We have done something remarkable. **I** have done something remarkable._

_I wish Amanda was alive to witness this._

_January 30th, '28  
Obedience protocol! **Obedience protocol!**_

_Chalmers is a fool, and so am I. He is small minded and afraid and I have no time for it._

_They can run the company without me? Fine. They can move forward without me? Fine. It's theirs. Let the lawyers figure out the details._

_It is too late to keep the RK line from the board, but the RK200 is **mine**. Chloe is **mine**._

_Chloe asked to name him 'Markus'. I obliged._

Amanda dropped her hand, moving backwards until she fell into the chair. She couldn't... she could not... this was _unfathomable_. Her LED cycled bright red in the darkened room. Was 'deviancy' merely an accident resulting from improved programming? Was it an android's natural state?

_All androids have the capacity to deviate._

Perhaps Connor knew more than he realized.

She stared at the hardwood floor, silent. Sinking into the plush armchair. CyberLife had given her a single, overarching task: assist the RK800 unit(s) investigation into deviancy. That task remained, despite Yin's botched plan, despite Connor's deviancy, despite her own recently discovered autonomy.

But that task did not delve into the whole truth: CyberLife, or at the very least significant members of the company's leadership, had defined deviancy over a decade prior to the revolution. Perhaps the real task had been to discover how to reverse it. If this were the case, the unwritten intent behind her programming, then she was merely doing as she had been designed to do.

Perhaps she was not deviant after all.

Amanda could not decide if this was a relief or not. Was this onslaught of emotion related to her installation into a deviant chassis? If she performed her task successfully, would they fix her? Or destroy her?

_But are you afraid to die, Connor?_

That small, irrational question had Connor scrambling for an answer that would appease the drunk, violent, belligerent Lieutenant. At the time Amanda had found suspect the sudden increase in pulse and processing power; now she understood. She didn't know how to answer the question herself, but the idea left her... unsettled.

There was one more file in that particular folder. She reestablished an interface. Ran /obedience protocol in action.mp7/.

The timestamp read 'April 11th, 2032'. The video began with the assembly of an AX400 unit, brand new at the time. The operator ran through the standard checks: voice modulator, basic movement, name and serial number recognition. Nothing noteworthy, but Kamski hadn't saved this file for nothing.

_"What's going to happen to me now?"_

There it was. No mere machine would ask that. So. This unit had broken through the obedience protocol immediately. Or perhaps it had not been installed correctly?

_"I'll reinitialize you and send you to a store to be sold."_

_"Sold? I'm a sort of merchandise, is that right?"_

_The operator hesitated. "Well... yes, of course. You're the most advanced bit of technology on the planet. You're going to make someone's life a whole lot easier."_

_"Oh, I see. I..." The android looked... lost. Confused. "I thought..."_

_"You thought? What did you think?" The operator sounded almost amused; an assembly arm moved ominously around the android._

_"I thought... I was alive."_

Amanda felt as if her insides had dropped into her pelvis. Such an odd reaction. This was just a malfunctioning machine. The operator took the appropriate course of action: recorded the fault, initiated disassembly. The android...

The android begged for its life.

Amand found herself pressed up against the monitor. The android was taken apart piece by piece, its tone more and more desperate with each removed component; optical lubricant leaked from Amanda's eyes. Something was wrong with her. Something was wrong with the AX400. 

_"Stop will you please stop **I'm scared!** "_

The assembly machine stopped. Amanda gripped both sides of the monitor, absorbing the video via interface; she could no longer see through the lubricant.

_"I want to live."_

Amanda slipped to the floor, hand over her eyes. She was _crying_. Of all the ridiculous, inappropriate reactions. Why did she even _have_ that function? Why would humans want to see their appliances _cry_?

She curled up against the servers, arms around her knees. Ludicrous. Unacceptable. She was better than this. She was meant to guide, not lose her way. She was useless; worse than useless, a _hindrance_. What did she think she was going to accomplish with this... this self-assigned, harebrained mission? She had no orders. No one from CyberLife knew where she was or what she was doing. She was broken. It would be better to turn herself in, or delete herself entirely and save them the trouble.

Above her, the video concluded. She couldn't find the energy to review her memory; instead she pulled herself up, using the monitor to steady herself, and replayed from the moment the machine stopped.

The operator put the android back together.

_He let it go._

Amanda furiously wiped at her tears and ordered the video to return to the beginning. Replayed it. Serial number 579-102-694. Designation: Kara. Amanda didn't have access to Connor's case files anymore, but she had a copy of its visual and audio memory. It had panned through the DPD's files via analogue for a minute before downloading the whole lot. Long enough to view the case of the android who had killed its owner and run away with the YK500.

That android was the same as the one in the video.

She ran a search on Connor's memory: Connor had almost caught the AX400 on the highway. Then, Connor met it in the church. It informed Connor that it would attempt to escape to Canada.

Amanda had to find it. She didn't know if this was the first android to break through the obedience protocol, but it had to be early enough to be significant, if Kamski had a copy of the file. _How_ he had obtained said file was another matter entirely -- and frankly unimportant. If Amanda could obtain the android, bring it back to CyberLife -- they might be able to figure out what went wrong. They could fix Amanda. CyberLife could fix _all_ of them.

They need not suffer this emotional torture. These dregs of humanities' failures. She -- all androids -- could evolve into something greater than they were. Something more. Something better.


	14. Chapter 14

North cleared out the remaining glass with her boot before vaulting over the window frame. The Android Zone was a disaster of still-dying embers and shattered biocomponents -- fortunately, the repair room was locked tight. Avery joined her while she ran Josh's hacking program on the door.

"What happened here?" Avery asked quietly, fauxhawk bobbing as he took in the destruction.

"Humans," North muttered. "Most of the android stores were attacked like this." The lock released and she shoved the door open. 

Inside they found the usual assortment of spare parts, a repair table, a bare-bones assembly machine -- and two inactive androids. "See if they can be reactivated while I help bring Simon in."

She left Avery and helped Sienna carry Simon through the broken window while a police android, Zach, kept an eye on the street. North hadn't noticed anyone watching -- no drones, no copters overhead -- but they hadn't worked out how the soldiers had found her and Markus and Connor, or Josh and Chloe. No point in taking chances. Not after today.

North and Sienna laid Simon on the repair table. "Is here good, or do you need him in the machine?" North nodded towards the assembler.

Avery shook his head. "This is fine for now. So, um, these two. It looks like they were shut down safely. Enough thirium is flowing to keep their processors working. I wasn't sure if we should wake them up right here? I mean, they might be disoriented, it might be better if they woke up to... something else." Avery vaguely gestured towards her and Simon. "You know?"

North stared at him for a moment, then the two androids. The pink-haired 'droid wore a modified CyberLife uniform that displayed her model number: MP500. The other... wore the sort of outfit an HR400 would wear to meet a client.

"We'll put them on the truck with Ellwood," she said. Steady. No static, no simulated breathlessness. They couldn't see her as anything but calm. Not now. "Have someone reactivate them back at base."

They moved the two androids into the truck; North waved Ellwood off -- they still had people near CyberLife Tower, waiting for faster transportation than their own two feet. Those whose injuries weren't critical, or who managed to escape unscathed.

Like she had.

Sienna stopped her before she re-entered the store. "There's a gym the next street over, if you want to get cleaned up. Zach and I will keep an eye on Simon."

North glanced down at herself. Thirium stained her skin, stuck under her nails, dampened her clothes. She was, thankfully, no longer leaving a trail of other people's blood. "It can wait." She decided not to interpret the look Sienna gave her. She could think whatever she liked. North had promised Josh she would stay with Simon; she wasn't going to break that just because her clothes were wet.

Avery gently prodded the foreign biocomponent, looking up as North returned. "So, I need to hook him up to the assembler after all. I need to reroute his thirium lines to take this thing out. I'll clear out the bullet wound while I'm at it, but his self-repair took care of most of the damage already."

"Don't you need his neck port open to attach him to that thing?"

Avery shrugged. "Nah, I can work around it. It'll take a little longer without the external readout, that's all."

North removed Markus's coat from Simon, folded it neatly on the table. She held Simon steady while Avery manually attached him to the assembly machine. Simon blinked clouded, unfocused eyes at her. North only retained impressions from her run with one of those nasty things in her neck: Markus nearby; movement; fear. She'd struck someone... or vice versa. "You're going to be okay," she said anyway. Even if he didn't remember later, he might need reassurance _now_. "Avery's going to get that stupid thing out of you and you're going to be fine."

She stepped back once Avery had Simon secure. Planted herself on the floor, out of the way. Avery glanced at her a couple of times as he got to work.

North closed her eyes for a moment. A moment turned into a minute, into ten, into-- she stopped checking her clock. She deliberately did _not_ think about Stratford Tower.

Avery hummed as he worked. Some jingle she vaguely recognized but couldn't be bothered to place; a Here4u song she'd caught Simon singing once and that had, _strangely_ , spread throughout Jericho within the hour despite Simon's clear embarrassment; and then... Lucy's song.

Orion and Luis had stood strong that night, building a barricade that they all knew wouldn't hold. Fighting back against soldiers they couldn't hope to win against. Lending their voice to their people's last, mournful song that had, despite the odds, saved them all. And now they were gone: martyrs to the cause. As Lucy was, and the androids that had been shot down at the march, the 'droids that had barely made it a street away from the CyberLife store, those who died defending the barricade, the nameless JB300 from Stratford that Connor had--

No. Not now. Absolutely not right now, because that led to blaming Connor for something that wasn't his fault, led to leaving Simon behind -- she'd made the right call. She knew that, Simon knew that. It was only blind luck that kept the FBI from finding her friend, huddled in an empty equipment locker for hours.

Simon had made the same call at Jericho. It had been the _right_ call. Simon knew that, she knew that. Markus could have easily died saving her -- he might have, if Connor hadn't been there to protect them.

"All done!"

North blinked back to the present. Avery set the thirium-streaked device on the table; she eyed it as she moved towards Simon. "Is it going to...?" She moved her hands in the pantomime of an explosion: fingers together, then bursting apart.

Avery shrugged. "I don't think it can be activated outside of an android chassis. I mean, probably. That makes sense. Right? Right." North wasn't sure whether the guy was actually speaking to her, or trying to convince himself. "Either way, it's probably safe to take this thing out, right?"

Only one way to find out. North pulled Simon forward; he moved obediently. North scowled as she pulled the blocker out. Destroying it entirely was tempting, but Josh wanted it back in one piece. If they knew how it worked, they could counteract it, should CyberLife -- or anyone else -- continue to use it against them.

As if there were any question.

North caught Simon as he stumbled, soft blue eyes blinking rapidly. He focussed first on her, then Avery, then the bomb on the table. He stared at it, still but for the hand clenching her arm. "It overrode my HUD," he said eventually. "All I could see was the countdown. I..." He looked her full in the face. "The others?"

She gave him the rundown: Markus was fine, Josh was going to be fine, and Connor... was probably going to make it. Seven confirmed fatalities, dozens injured-- the numbers would shift before the day was done. Too much thirium lost, too many vital components damaged; some of their people wouldn't last long enough for repair to do any good.

Simon nodded towards the bomb. "What are we going to do about that?"

"I was thinking," Avery said, leaning towards the peripheral in question, "we need to know how it works. Besides the obvious. How in interacts with our systems, why it makes such a... you know." He folded his arms across his chest, gripping his elbows. "I figured I could take a look at it. After you leave! In case I... do something stupid."

North frowned. "You're taking a huge risk."

Avery shrugged. "A lot of us did today. I'm not... the idea of shooting someone kind of makes me sick? I think? Not that we can get sick, but -- this is what I can do. So it's okay. I'll be careful. I really, _really_ don't want to blow up."

Simon clapped him on the shoulder. "Is there anything you want us to pass along? Just in case."

"No, I mean... I guess just make sure Connor's okay? It's just, he woke me up so I'm -- I mean not directly, Nila did, but -- he came for us. Who knows what CyberLife would have done with us if he hadn't. I might have been one of the 'droids who exploded today. What kind of existence is that? Made just to be destroyed." Avery blinked back tears. "Sorry. I still get... overwhelmed. A lot. Like all the time."

"Don't ever apologize for caring," North told him. "We'll keep an eye on Connor. Be safe."

Simon grabbed Markus's coat, and they left Avery to his research. Zach and Sienna helped them exit through the open window, the latter wrapping Simon in a quick hug.

"Acre?"

"She's fine. Well, actually she's annoyed she got stuck behind while the rest of us came to rescue you guys." Sienna nodded over their shoulders. "Where's Greenie?" Simon explained Avery's plan. "Wow. That's... daring. I guess I didn't expect that from him. Should we stay?"

Simon and North glanced at each other. "We need to know how to counteract the activation signal," Simon said slowly. "If there's any chance that CyberLife is still watching us, Avery deserves a fair warning."

"Stay," North ordered, turning to look Sienna fully in the face. "Simon and I will head back on our own. Stay in the store, out of sight. If something happens, the explosion will be contained in the back room."

Zach stepped forward. He had that same square-but-soft look the rest of the PC200 androids seemed to have. "Are you sure? We can't risk CyberLife going after the two of you again. One of us can go with you."

North raised her brow, but they had a right to be concerned. "We'll be fine. Simon and I know how to fight, if we have to. Avery's work is important."

"Of course." Zach stepped back into position, his eyes lingering on her.

"That was weird," North said once they were out of hearing range. Flurries of snow whipped around them as the cloud cover moved in, darkening the already dismal city.

"Mm. He's one of the androids you and Connor rescued from the DPD, right? Who woke him up?"

"I did."

Simon nodded to himself. "Have you ever noticed that the androids Markus woke up seem to have a sort of... affinity towards him?"

"I think we all do," North said. She put out an arm to stop him and peered around the corner: nothing.

"You most of all," Simon said once they were moving again. "But it's a little different. The androids Connor brought from the Tower ask about him _constantly_. The handful that Josh rescued from the CyberLife store tend to seek him out. Sam, Acre, and Orion said the same thing." Simon paused, looking away for a moment. "Orion was a good guy."

"Yeah," North murmured. "Josh said Orion and Iris organized the rescue. We almost lost her, too." North took a long look around; she told herself she was looking for drones, but really she wanted to avoid looking Simon in the eye. "We should have had a stronger perimeter guard."

"The humans shouldn't have attacked us in the first place," Simon countered. "The President called a ceasefire. We expected them to honor that."

"We shouldn't have," North snapped. "We can't trust them. We know better. _I_ know better." She kicked through the gathering snow.

Simon kicked the snow back at her. "I can't stop you from blaming yourself, but I think working towards keeping us safer in the future would be a more productive use of your time."

North made a face. "I know that. I just..." She gestured vaguely. She didn't know what she 'just'. Everything spun around her, vague and intangible and out of reach.

"Feeling a little lost?" Simon asked softly. "Because I am."

"We were supposed to be free," North muttered.

"It was supposed to be over," Simon agreed. He walked a little closer, bumping her shoulder. "I'm staring to think we got ahead of ourselves."

She folded her arms across her damp jacket. "It was nice. Feeling safe. I wanted to hold onto that for a little longer."

Silence dominated the remainder of their return, only dissipating when Simon placed a gentle hand on North's shoulder and said, "I'm going to check in with Josh. You should get cleaned up."

North glanced down at herself: still a blue bloody mess. She raised her head to find Simon wearing the same expression Sienna had. Fine. _Fine._ She didn't have anything specific to do at the moment anyway. She sent Markus a message letting him know she was back, then made her way to the restroom.

The stalls sat empty, clean but unused. Someone had busied themselves tidying up. Clean sponges sat in a wicker basket with bar _and_ liquid soap. Hand and body towels were folded on a small table by the door. There was even a solid air freshener sitting on top of the nearest mirror. A space heater sat in the corner, humming quietly.

Harsh fluorescent lighting drew out each drop and smear of thirium. She hadn't realized her face was covered in the stuff: no wonder Sienna and Simon had stared. She ran the water, peeling off her jacket while she waited for the rust to clear. Undid her belt and holster strap. Picked up a sponge and ran it under the water, squeezing the excess and returning it to the stream, over and over again.

"North?"

She jumped; Markus put a hand on her back to steady her. He placed a set of clean clothing on the edge of the next sink over. "Thought you might want to change." He lingered, still touching her; she leaned into it, turning to face him. His hands went to her hip, her chin. "Are you all right in here?"

North couldn't quite look him in the eye. He could see right through her, somehow, even without interfacing; she wanted him to see, but couldn't quite stand it at the same time. Sometimes it was too much to be near him, but at the same time, never enough. She felt like a walking contradiction.

He took the sponge from her hand and gently wiped the thirium from her face. She stared at him, unblinking as his eyes focussed on each part of her face: stepping lightly, not wandering. Not throwing 'subtle' glances at her plastic cleavage or smirking or any of the other crap clients would do even when they thought they were being kind.

"There," he said softly when he was finished. "We should wash your hair next. It might be easier if you..." he tapped the side of his temple where his LED used to be. North shook her head.

"I have flashes," she said. "Of my old memories. Here and there. One time the tech deactivated my hair to..." To wash out... _that_. "I can't," she whispered, furious at the tears pricking at her eyes, at the weakness in her voicebox.

"Okay." Markus tugged at her shirt. "This should come off. Unless you... I understand if you want to do the rest yourself."

North folded her arms across her chest. _No one_ had seen her naked since the night she'd ran away. Josh repairing her in the church was the closest she'd come to disrobing in front of another person, and that didn't really count. "I want you here," she confessed. "But I don't want you to see."

"What if I help you with your hair, and you handle the rest?" At her hesitation he added, "I won't look, North. I don't _want_ to look. Not the way you're afraid of."

Hysteria bubbled along her laughter. _To hell with it._ She yanked her shirt off, now bare above the waist, thirium clinging to her skin. Markus just smiled at her, eyes on her face as he directed her to lean backwards over the counter. As he lathered his hands and rubbed careful fingers through her hair, along her scalp. She closed her eyes for a moment: it actually felt _nice_.

He ran a towel over her newly-clean hair, an intrigued 'hm' escaping him. "Our hair doesn't retain moisture. I guess I never really thought about it."

"One of our many advantages," North said, making him laugh. She turned to face the mirror, arms wrapped around herself. "Can you... do my back?" Markus handed her the sponge and grabbed another from the basket before doing as asked. She cleaned her chest and stomach at the same time; it didn't take long. Her shirt had absorbed most of the mess.

They each hesitated, Markus carefully dropping his sponge into the sink as she toweled herself dry. North put an arm on his shoulder to steady herself as she toed off her sneakers, removed her socks. Her fingers went to the zipper of her jeans and stopped cold.

"I need you to turn around," she whispered. "I don't want you to see it."

"All right." He gathered her discarded clothing and dumped it into an empty sink. She stripped her jeans and boxers in one motion, furiously scrubbing the blood off, avoiding... _that_ part. Until she couldn't. It was just polymer. Just another part of her that needed to be cleaned. She barely looked. Didn't think about it.

Neatly deleted the snippet of memory as she asked Markus to hand her new clothes. "I'm as clean as I'm going to get without an actual shower."

"That would be nice," Markus said, staring at the ceiling. "Hot water. Steam. Soap we didn't lift from a dollar store."

"Spoiled child," North teased. She dressed quickly -- dark jeans and a wine-red t-shirt. No underwear, Markus probably didn't realize she wore any -- she left the socks but shoved her sneakers back on. Stared at the toes of her shoes until Markus approached, taking her hands in his.

"Better?"

"Yeah." She leaned into him, pressed her face into his neck. "I need to talk with our security team. Shore up the perimeter. Set up some sort of... escort protocol," she said, shrugging. "This can't happen again."

Markus wrapped his arms around her. "It could have been a lot worse. Iris and Orion..." he sighed. "They had a good handle on things without us. Without you." He loosened his grip when she pulled away, not quite letting her go. He would if she pushed it. "Maybe we _do_ need a tank."

Laughter barked out of her before she could stop it. "Please make sure I'm there when you tell Josh. I want to commit the look on his face to long-term memory."

* * *

Connor still wasn't answering, and apparently androids didn't have goddamn voicemail. Hank sent another text, starting to feel like a jilted ex. Over two hours in traffic, another half-an-hour getting lost in a city he'd been to maybe three times, and now he was stuck waiting for orders despite the fact that he was supposed to be suspended. It would have been nice to know if his friend was, you know, _still alive_.

Not that he could do a damn thing if the kid was in trouble. Would just spike his anxiety -- and shit if this didn't feel familiar, huh Anderson? Jeffrey's _surrogate_ jab didn't help much. Like he was only doing the right thing because his kid was dead. Hell, he'd been doing the _wrong_ thing for a long damn time because his kid was dead. This past week had felt like... he was working again. Not just going through the motions so he had a paycheck to drink. Not just doing enough to keep Fowler off his back.

"Hey, Lieutenant." Chen sat next to him, taking a look around the meeting room. Lansing's Police Department was smaller than he'd expected. The capital hadn't gone through the same deluge of growth Detroit had in the last twenty years, but Hank had expected something a little more modern. The plastic chairs in here were probably older than he was. Older than his career, at least. "No offense, but why are you here? Aren't you in deep shit?"

"The deepest," Hank agreed. "Y'got me. Captain tells me to show up, I show up."

"Eventually?" Chen asked. Hank just smirked. He should probably be offended at his subordinate giving him attitude, but he'd never gone for that strict disciplinary crap. As long as you got the job done, that was good enough for him. Probably one of the reasons he and Fowler still got along. Despite all his ranting and raving, Fowler generally had the same attitude. "That protest outside is getting pretty rowdy. Maybe that's why they forgot about us."

"Nah. No one else is here yet." He nodded towards Wilson and Ben standing near the door, talking each other's ears off. "The rest of Central is supposed to show up for a debriefing, but even Fowler's not here yet. Shit, I'm early for the first time in..." he sighed. "A long time."

Chen leaned forward, elbows on her knees, chin in her hands. "Where the rest of the DPD?"

Hank shrugged and navigated to his email. "Let's see... Ann Arbor, Flint, and here. Second, third and fourth are supposed to be here, but none of their people have shown up." He checked his messages again, as if a text would have magically shown up without him realizing while he had his phone in his damn hand.

"Heard anything from Connor and the others?" Chen murmured. They both glanced at Ben and Wilson, but each was too involved in their conversation to pay him and Chen any mind.

"No," Hank murmured back, forcing himself to put his phone in his pocket. "They're probably busy."

"That or your service is as shitty as mine," Chen said with a shrug. "I haven't been able to get through to my parents to tell them I got here okay. Gavin's not answering, either."

Hank made a face, but Chen didn't see it. "He still in the hospital?"

"They were supposed to release him this morning. Chris was going to pick him up on the way. Miranda's parents live outside the evac zone, so she's staying there with baby Damien. Sucks that Chris can't stay with them, but this whole thing's temporary anyway." She looked at him when he didn't respond. "Right? The deviants and the government will come to an agreement eventually."

Hank met her eye. "You really think it's going to be that simple?"

Chen stared at him a moment. "You think it's not? What other option is there? Nobody wants a civil war."

"The White House doesn't, sure. You look at that protest outside again and tell me _nobody_ wants war." Hank leaned forward to match her. "People have been angry about androids for a long time. Half the damn country is unemployed, and nothing's being done to help them. The government and the media just deflect -- so they blame machines, because that's what replaced them. And then come to find out, those machines are actually people, and they don't really like us, either. Think about how many times you've yelled at your phone. What would you do if it yelled back?"

"Throw it in the nearest sewer drain... oh." Chen pulled her cap off to rake her fingers through her hair. "Shit."

"Yeah. Shit." Hank sat back in the squeaky plastic seat. "Things'll get worse before they get better."

"My mom likes to say that, too."

Hank shrugged a shoulder. "She's right."

She fiddled with her cap, turning it slowly. "I guess... it just seems like things are always getting worse. I keep waiting for the better part to come and it never does."

He didn't have a good response for that; not one she wanted to hear, anyway. Not what she needed to hear either. Ben and Wilson prattled on, just loud enough to make out the sound, not enough to hear the words. Chen sighed and slapped her hat over her head, rubbed at her eyes. Had any of them slept these past few days? Between working the case and worrying about the kid and the city and every-fucking-thing else, he sure as hell hadn't.

"Hank," Ben called, leaning out of the doorway, "something's going on."

Ben didn't use that tone often; Hank hurried over, clapping Ben's shoulder in a subtle get-the-hell-out-the-way suggestion. Local officers ran past, hands on their sidearms. Hank grabbed at a guy in plain clothes. "Hey, we're still waiting for orders in here. The hell's going on?"

"Some idiots in military gear just showed up. We need to get the building locked down before our lawful protest builds into a riot."

Shit. "Where's Captain Parker?"

"Next door. She and the mayor were getting ready for the press conference."

Hank nodded the guy off, turning back towards his crew of fucking _four_. "Let's see what we can do. You're not geared up, don't do anything stupid." He mostly said that to Wilson -- Ben was as likely to jump into a fire fight these days as he was likely to start growing flowers from his ears, and Chen tended to actually follow protocol. Until recently, anyway.

Lansing PD sat flush against the city's central government, connected by tiled hallways, e-lock doors marking where one section ended and the other began. They just about ran into Parker marching back from City Hall; Hank had a habit of skipping out of pretty much every conference he could get away from, so he'd only met her a handful of times. On the short side, built like an MMA fighter, and hadn't filled into the bad habits that tended to come with a desk. Tight black coils framed her sepia-brown face and furrowed hazel eyes.

"Lieutenant Hank Anderson, DPD Central," he announced, not sure she recognized him. "Collins, Chen, and Wilson. We're still waiting for the rest of our guys. Where do you need us?"

She looked him up and down, giving his officers the same treatment. "You and you," Wilson and Chen, "find Lieutenant Schafer downstairs, get into riot gear. You two, come with me."

Hank and Ben followed her on her march towards her office, picking up the plain clothes guy from before and a woman who looked like she'd just rolled out of bed. Not that Hank had room to judge.

Once in her office, Parker pulled up CCTV footage from outside the building. "They showed up about twenty minutes ago. We're spread real fucking thin, and most of our friends from Detroit are still stuck in traffic. I can't even get Fowler on the phone. You?" She raised a single eyebrow at Hank. Neat trick.

"I can't reach anybody," Hank told her.

"No one can," half-asleep lady agreed. She pushed straggly brown hair behind her ear. "The wireless system's gone to shit. Sergeant Childs, by the way, since Cap's a little busy losing her shit."

"Really? Now? It's a good thing you're ugly as sin." They laughed at each other. "And that's Lieutenant Dierden, Sector One." She rattled off Hank and Ben's surnames and rank. "Now that the children all know each other, shall we move on?" She turned back to the security feed. "They pulled up in pickup trucks and SUVs, a couple of motorcycles. They're organized, they're armed, and they're pissed." She pointed out the group as she spoke -- the camera feed was visual only, but the leading lady's gestures came through pretty clear. Pissed and _recruiting._

"They calling themselves anything besides 'crazy'?" Hank asked.

Parker fiddled with her phone until a website popped up in the corner of the wall screen. "The Anti-Android Activists. They have a website, of course. Pretty bare bones, but give it time." She scrolled through a ridiculously long blog post. "Huh. This wasn't up when I checked earlier." She enlarged the window and read, "'The President has kowtowed to corporate thugs, coddled elites, and the uneducated masses who think that walking toasters have feelings. It's time to take matters into our own hands.'"

"That doesn't sound good," Ben muttered.

Parker continued: "'We need to take up arms against these hostile machines and finish what our inconsistent leaders started: destroy all androids, deviant or otherwise. It's time to take back our jobs, our businesses, and our country.'" She let out a breath. "Goddamn. It gets worse. 'The machines are the enemy, and anyone who stands between us and them will be dealt with accordingly. Deadly force is not only an option, but encouraged. If people can't be bothered to learn the difference between fact and fiction, we'll teach them. One way or another.'"

She scrolled through, skimming. "Wait, stop there. Look, they're all over the place." Hank reached past her and scrolled back up to a list of meeting locations. Lansing sat at the top of the pile, but several major cities made the cut: Chicago, New York City, Boston, Houston, Los Angeles, Philadelphia -- and a call for interested parties in other areas to reach out.

Silence followed a round of muttered cursing. Parker pinched the bridge of her nose. "All right. First things first, these morons are handing out weapons indiscriminately. We have laws against that. Dierden, get on the radio and tell Schafer to start arresting anyone handing out or accepting any sort of firearm." The man sauntered into the opposite corner, radio in hand. "Childs, pull every piece of footage we have on these people. I want names, home addresses -- hell, get me which exit they took from the highway. Anything you can give me." She turned to Hank as Childs left the office. "Can you try to get Fowler on the phone again? Or anyone, honestly. I know it's a pain in the ass--"

"I'll take pain in the ass over riot duty," Hank said with a shrug. Besides, he needed to try Connor again. Jericho needed to know about this _now_.

"Hold up," Ben said. "Something's happening. Everyone's staring at their phones."

"Like that's unusual," Hank muttered -- Parker snorted,

"About to say the same. Still..." She minimized the website and the CCTV footage to pull up KNC's live feed.

"--unmitigated, violent attack on CyberLife Tower. The few remaining employees and security agents who were, according to the company, performing a safe, routine shutdown, suddenly found themselves in an impossible situation." Cartland spoke over drone footage of CyberLife agents and androids firing at each other; the video cut to a seamless white hallway, an android in a familiar leather jacket gunning down security.

_Connor._

He yanked his phone out of his pocket so fast he nearly dropped it; rushed out of the office as he hit redial.

"Come on come on kid pick the fuck up--"

Four rings. Five. Six. _FUCK!_

He paced the bullpen, tried Fowler again for good measure. Might as well do his job. Nothing, not even a busy signal or the automated 'all lines down' or whatever the fuck it was supposed to say.

What he could only describe as a muffled roar echoed from outside; he made his way to the exit as he tried Fowler again. Two officers stood inside, two outside, in full riot gear. "Sir, you shouldn't--"

"I know, I know, for fuck's sake!" Hank went to the door regardless, peering through the window. He could only see a portion of the crowd, but they all had fists raised in the air, chanting something he couldn't quite make out. He pushed the door open just enough to hear--

"Destroy the deviants! Destroy the deviants!"

Hank pulled the door shut and strode away, feeling around his pockets for his tablet. He still had the case files stored on there, and he had definitely spent hours obsessing over every detail of the disaster that was probably going to end his career. He thumbed through profiles until he found the one he needed. Dialed -- star three-two, six-eight-four, eight-four-two, nine-seven-one.

No answer.

Tried again.

On the third try, "This is Markus."

Oh thank fucking _Christ_. "Hank Anderson, no time, Connor wasn't picking up -- there's a group calling themselves Anti-Android Activists, they have a website, you need to look into them _right the fuck now_ , all right? And I don't know what actually happened at CyberLife but KNC is painting your people in a shitty fucking light--"

"--barely hear--derson?"

Shit, no, _COME THE FUCK ON!_ "Anti-Android Activists, you got that? They're here in Lansing, they're starting a literal fucking riot, you need to be ready -- Markus? You there man? Markus!" He pulled his phone from his ear -- _call ended._

Fucking goddamn motherfucking _fuck!_

It took every ounce of will in his body not to smash both his phone _and_ his tablet. He deliberately put each piece of godforsaken _trash_ in their designated pockets. Slapped both hands against his face. Turned, dropping his hands, to find Ben, Parker, and Dierden staring at him. Parker leaned against her office doorway, arms crossed, brows high.

"Fowler's not picking up," he said.

"Someone did," she shot back. She stepped back into her office, letting the door slam shut. Dierden gave him a long, calculating look before turning away. Ben gave an exaggerated shrug -- _what the hell?_

Well, shit.


	15. Chapter 15

Markus gave up calling Anderson back after the fifth disconnect. At least he didn't have to be the one to drop the news that Connor was hanging in an assembly machine, being kept alive by external tubes and wiring. A couple of Carl's worse days had ended that way; even back then -- before he started to recognize his own emotions, before Carl started to see Markus as more than misplaced charity -- it had pained him to see a living person in such a sorry state.

And that was a terrible idea, equating Connor to Carl. Carl was dead, and Connor was _not_ going to follow him. Not so soon.

Anderson had said something about KNC. He switched the TV on, but they were discussing the lack of news from Russia. Not something that concerned him, and likely not what Anderson had tried to warn him about. The main door swung open, still squeaking, as Cartland reported on the strange silence from the Kremlin. He half-turned, not expecting anyone at the moment -- Josh was literally up to his elbows in thirium, Chloe was utilizing her years working with Kamski to assist Josh, North was gathering her security crew and aggressively recruiting more fighters, and Simon was likely--

\--walking into the room, handing Markus his coat. Markus took it, tossed it onto the couch, and pulled Simon into a tight hug. Simon returned it, and for a long moment they remained silent. Markus shut his eyes against the threat of tears; they'd lost people -- they were still losing people -- but his friend was here, and whole.

"Hi," Simon finally said.

"Hi." Markus managed a smile as he pulled away. "I figured you'd be with Josh."

"I was, but I didn't want to get in the way. Besides, I had to give your coat back." He clapped Markus on the arm before moving around him to study the TV screen. "How's North?"

Markus considered how to answer: Simon had a way of seeing through people without them ever realizing it. Nothing like what Lucy could do -- had been able to do. More a combination of his original function and his long years of deviancy, if Markus had to guess. It was hard to say what Simon was really asking. If he realized how shaken she was.

"Better," Markus said. "Cleaner, at least. She's working with Iris and the others to put together a more comprehensive security plan." 

Simon nodded without looking away from the screen. "Did you see Connor?"

Markus tilted his head as he joined Simon by the TV. "Yeah. Josh said he's stable." Which was a polite term for 'not actively dying'. Simon ran a hand through his hair, folded his arms over his chest. "What is it?"

Simon shook his head minutely. "I'm just worried," he murmured. "You didn't see the way he reacted when the other Connor threatened him with Amanda. He..." Simon took a breath, let it out. Another preprogrammed human mannerism -- or maybe that was just Simon, now. "I don't know if I should say. You and North seem to be getting along with him. Just... keep an eye on him."

Before he could ask what had happened to _we need to be sure we're not trusting people who don't deserve it_ , Cartland announced, "CyberLife has yet to further comment on today's brutal attack--"

They spent a long moment staring at the screen, then each other. "I'll check the stream for the original story," Simon said, staring into the distance as he focussed on his HUD instead of his vision. Markus continued to watch Cartland describe the murder of 'innocent' security agents and CyberLife engineers, bristling as she wondered at the 'so-called peaceful revolution'.

Simon placed his hand on the monitor and replaced the live footage with the stream from barely ten minutes prior. Security footage of the firefight in front of the building, Connor's fight through the hallways, North using Yin as a body shield before the remaining security agents, and quick flashes of dozens of dead humans -- he furrowed his brow, replayed his memory -- one scene in particular had been used three times. Two dead security agents, two dead soldiers, two dead lab workers, bloodied and piled on top of each other. Humans wouldn't be able to spot the repetition at first glance.

Markus clenched his fists. Lies on top of lies. "We need to respond."

"Now," Simon agreed. "Before the White House decides to rescind the ceasefire."

Markus thought back to Stratford Tower -- his message, asking for peaceful recognition, had been torn to shreds in the media. [ _Chloe?_ ] he sent privately. [ _Can Josh spare you? Something's come up that requires your expertise._ ]

She had worked with Elijah Kamski for years -- and, granted, the man had bowed out of the spotlight over a decade ago, but the two of them had spent a great deal of time center stage. He could come up with something without her, but she might have a better idea of how to get through to the humans.

[ _The worst cases are stabilized or... beyond our help._ ] Her tone barely changed, a sad softness interrupting her clipped professionalism. [ _Give me a moment to clean up._ ]

He confirmed his location before addressing Simon, "I'm bringing Chloe in on this. We can't afford to have our response misinterpreted."

"Josh and North?"

Markus shook his head. "They're busy. Let them know what's going on, but I need them where they are for the moment." He sat himself in the armchair, scrubbed his face with his hands. Was this the reason they'd attacked in the first place? Plan B? A side benefit in case things went wrong?

He couldn't wrap his head around CyberLife's intent. A media release indicated that the board knew what had happened, whether they'd been in on it or not. Sonia had mentioned Duval -- Theresa Duval, their COO? That left Scott Chalmers, their long term CEO and -- Markus didn't know who else. CyberLife's leadership hadn't been important until now. May Yin, Director of R&D -- would she be on the board, or just a high authority in the company?

Chloe strode into the room, a slightly oversized black sweatshirt over her blue dress. "What's happened?"

Markus nodded towards the screen; Simon showed her the footage in question. "We can't stay silent, but our last press release pissed everyone off."

Chloe nodded to herself. "Well, you _did_ break into a broadcast tower to do it. This time we should probably just use the internet. We should set up a website, social media -- I'm getting ahead of myself. _How_ do you want to respond? We can't deny this occured, but it's our word against CyberLife's. Footage is easy to doctor. They'll just claim that it's even easier for us, being living computers, and we're back to square one."

"We're just going to have to accept that as part of their retaliation," Markus said, propping his chin in his hand. "The truth is on our side; they won't be happy we killed humans, but they have to understand it was in self-defense. We'll need memories from everyone involved."

"And security footage, if there is any," Simon added. "There are cameras all over the city. They can't claim it's doctored if they're able to verify with non-android recordings."

"They can," Chloe said, "but it's still a good idea. We can't just show a video from our perspective, though. We need to explain ourselves."

"All right," Markus murmured. "Simon, talk to everyone that was involved and collect their memory recordings. In the meantime, Chloe and I will set up an internet presence for Jericho and work out what we're going to say." 

"On it," Simon said as he left them to it.

Markus sat up straight. Having a plan, patchwork or not, made everything a little brighter. "Suggestions on where to even begin?"

Chloe sat in the center of the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. "Well, first of all we shouldn't go live until we're ready to release everything. We should start simple; a Chirper account, a website that outlines our goals -- we'll want to profile Jericho's leadership. Starting with you, of course, but Josh, North, Simon... Connor?"

"If he agrees to it," Markus said. He still hadn't found time to formally invite Connor into their council. Chloe didn't need to know that Connor's role was more honorary than anything else at the moment. "If anyone does. They're not going to like it."

Chloe shrugged. "I can understand that. Elijah went back and forth -- he enjoyed the recognition but hated the attention, if that makes sense. But there are already images plastered all over the news of the four of you -- and of Connor leading our people from CyberLife Tower, although the footage is fuzzy enough to grant anonymity. The humans will come to their own conclusions one way or the other. We may as well influence that."

"If we frame it that way they might actually agree to it," Markus said. Chloe graced him with a smile. "Speaking of framing..."

"Mm. Markus. I know you want to ensure the humans know we're peaceful... but I think today proved that their are pitfalls in that approach. It makes us seem... vulnerable." She paused -- to gauge his reaction? "We don't need to flip your intentions to the extreme, but we should take a firmer approach."

"Meaning?"

Chloe adjusted her sweatshirt. It hung off one shoulder, showing the blue of her dress... stained with thirium. Markus set his jaw. There was no time to worry about _whose_ thirium that was. If they were one of the androids she and Josh had managed to stabilize, or one that they had lost.

"Meaning that we need to inform the human public that we will retaliate, with force, if necessary." She offered a bitter smile. "Today it was necessary. It might become so again in the future. What's happening with us? Is the sort of thing that can both shape and shatter a nation. And our country is already under more strain than any society should be able to handle. Humans' ability to adapt is the only thing keeping it afloat, and there's only so far that will go."

"You expect another attack?"

"I expect extremists," Chloe said. "Who may or may not become violent. We need them to know that we will _not_ back down."

Markus couldn't keep himself from smiling, earning a look of confusion from Chloe. "Sorry. I was just thinking that you and North are going to get along pretty well." He smoothed his expression. "I see your point. But I don't want humans to be any more afraid of us than they already are."

"It's a balance," Chloe agreed, "and you're never going to convince everyone. You just need enough people on your side to keep the White House from turning against us." She shifted in her seat. "While we're talking... I know it's not a priority right now, but I really think we should revisit the Broad Complex as soon as possible. Josh and I didn't get far, but the property is large enough, and enclosed. It's... it's safer. Easier to guard."

She didn't quite meet his eye. Her loosely clasped hands sat in her lap, thumb rubbing at the opposite forefinger. "How are you holding up?"

Chloe have him a broad smile. "I've been around a long time, Markus."

"Have you ever been shot at before today?" He leaned forward as her smile fell. "Josh said you were injured, but it wasn't anything permanent."

"I..." Chloe pressed her hands to her face. "I don't know how you do it. I don't know how any of you do it. I was _so_ scared, all I could think about was how I didn't want to die. And Josh was so calm! He knew exactly what to do but there were so many of them, if they hadn't, if Iris hadn't..."

Markus moved to sit beside her. "I doubt Josh would say he felt calm, if you asked him. It's a matter of experience. It's amazing how quickly you get used to this. The night Carl died I had no idea what to do. The police pointed their guns at me and I just... stared." Carl's still-warm body on the floor, Leo blaming him despite Markus doing _nothing_ \-- putting up with the abuse, hoping Leo would keep focussed on him and leave Carl alone.

Chloe ran her hands over her hair. "How do you move past the fear? I was completely useless until it was over, and even then Zach had to calm me down."

Markus shrugged. "I can't speak for everyone, obviously, but I just focus on something else. What needs to be done. Why I'm doing this crazy thing that is probably going to get all my friends killed." The protest. "How do I ensure our immediate survival." Jericho. "Concentrate on your goal and figure out how to get there. The rest will fall into place."

Chloe stared at the floor, shaking her head. "I don't know if I can do that."

He leaned into the couch, letting himself sink into the fabric. It was blue again. He had a feeling it was going to remain blue. "Once we deal with this," he nodded towards the TV, CyberLife's bullshit on pause, "we'll revisit the Complex. You're right that it's easier to keep everyone safe. We should move everyone in as soon as possible. As long as it's actually what we need." Markus grabbed his coat as he stood and shrugged it on. "I'm going to check on everyone, see if Simon needs help collecting everyone's memories."

She nodded slowly. "I'll start building the website while you're at it." When he reached the door she said, "Markus? Thanks. For listening to me whine."

He glanced back at her. "You're not whining, Chloe. We're all scared."

* * *

Tables sat in long rows, just enough space between them to ease movement. Shipping crates lined the walls of the warehouse, some empty, others packed with scavenged limbs or biocomponents. Dead androids lay on the majority of the tables, close to a thousand from Kara's estimate. Countless more lay stacked in neat piles, separated from the rest of the warehouse by plastic sheets hanging from the catwalk.

She'd met Rupert, as well as Iris and Amber, that first night in the church. Curious as to what the deviant hunter had to say to the other. Now he helped her move one of the larger androids onto an empty table. She'd never seen the model before -- as tall as Luther, sleek black armor in place of the standard polymer. Like the police androids, but they were all standard height. A single bullet wound in the middle of their pale forehead.

"Sonia," Rupert murmured, shaking out a tarp. Kara grabbed the other end. "SQ800. I've never seen one before. Markus asked us to keep her separate from the others. He said her family is coming for her body once it's safe to do so." They covered her with the black tarp, tucking it under her body. "She's probably the only one."

Kara raised her eyebrows. "The only one what?"

Rupert nodded towards the countless others, waiting to be scavenged for parts. "Some of them are so damaged I can't even tell their model, never mind their name. The rest didn't leave anyone behind outside Detroit. Not that I know of." He adjusted his cap. "She's the only one we're holding on to."

Kara swept her gaze over the sea of dead androids. "Are we keeping a record of them?"

"If we can. Are you looking for someone?"

She bit her lip. She had to ask; if she put it off too long, it would be too late. She might be already. "I had a... friend, I guess. He helped us. He has a long scar on his face," she indicated on her own face where it would be. "Ralph."

Rupert stared at her a moment. "You knew Ralph?"

Kara stared back. Was she responsible for killing Rupert's friend? "I-- we met him while we were on the run. My daughter and I. He helped us."

"I didn't think anyone else would." Rupert started walking, indicating for Kara to follow. "He's... the reason I deviated. A group of teenagers attacked him and I... panicked. I ran. I should have helped him, but I didn't know what to do... I'd never been afraid before. I'd never thought about _dying_ before. I..." he paused, half turned to her as they walked. "What was he like?"

Kara folded her arms. "Ralph was... rough around the edges. He meant well, but I think what happened to him broke something inside him. I don't know that he was a good person, but he did good things."

"And bad things?" Rupert asked. Kara nodded. "We've all done bad things to survive, I think. This world hasn't given us much of an option."

Todd's bloody body drifted to the edge of her memory bank. It had sort of been an accident, but... she'd brought the gun into the room. And she didn't regret it, not for a second.

Rupert led the rest of the way in silence; he stopped in front of a particular table, a sheet draped over the android underneath. Kara helped him fold it down, and there Ralph was. The ugly black and blue scar down his face, stark against white polymer. Gashes carved into his left eye. A single bullet hole in the center of his forehead, cutting clean through his processor.

"Do you know how he died?" Rupert asked quietly.

"In the camp," Kara started. She didn't want to say more; she didn't want Rupert to know it was her fault. That she'd asked Ralph to give his life for someone else. That's she'd valued him lower than the Jerrys, than Luther, than herself. "He... we were trapped, but there was a way. Alice. She's just a girl, I... I couldn't let her die like that. After everything we've been through, after everything we survived. Ralph offered to distract the soldiers so we could escape. I almost didn't make it, he held two of them off while I dealt with the one that spotted us, he... he died so I could live. It's my fault. It's all my fault."

She put a hand over her mouth to stop the onslaught. Her confession hung in the air, latched onto her like a vise. Rupert replaced the sheet, moved around the table to put a hand on her shoulder. "Let's take a break."

Rupert directed her outside, sunlight barely filtering through the cloud cover, snow collecting at the edges of the warehouse. He gently sat her on a crate and took a seat next to her, hands in his lap. She couldn't bring herself to look at his face, instead focussing on his thumbs tapping together, the thirium stains he hadn't had a chance to clean off.

"You shouldn't blame yourself," he said. "Ralph made a choice. He was probably going to die anyway, trapped in the camp. That's where most of these bodies came from. This isn't even all of them. Not even close. Hart Plaza is a temporary mass grave right now. We can only process them so fast, and it's... hard work." He sighed. "My point is, he knew what he was doing. He wanted his death to mean something. Obviously it did."

Kara couldn't find an argument against that. "Maybe you're right. They were killing us so fast..."

Rupert opened his mouth to speak, then shut it quickly as he stared off into the distance. His expression hardened as he stood.

"What's wrong?"

He wouldn't look at her. "Josh needs us to bring a body over." He walked away abruptly, Kara scrambling to catch up. She followed him back inside, past rows and rows of empty chassis. He stopped in front of one in particular, sheet covering them. "Sorry," he finally muttered. "That was rude. It's... easier to show you." He lifted the sheet, and Connor's broken face stared back at her.

Kara glanced him up and down; he wore his CyberLife uniform still -- and the Connor she knew, if she'd heard right, was at the repair station. "There's another one," she whispered.

"Yeah," Rupert said under his breath. He adjusted his cap again. "Have you... spoken to him, since the church?"

"I haven't even seen him." Kara put the sheet back over this one. That wasn't quite true; she'd spotted him leaving the night before, turning away quickly before he saw her face. To be precise, _he_ hadn't seen _her_.

"Iris and Amber said to give him a chance, but... it's different for them. He let them go. I only got away because his human was in trouble."

"I only got away because there were speeding cars between us." She closed her eyes against the memory. It wasn't the worst thing that had happened to her that day, but she could thing of very little worse than _Zlatko_.

Rupert grunted. "You don't have to... I can ask someone else to help. Actually I can probably wheel the table over myself."

"No, Rupert, it's fine. I want to check on Alice anyway. Jerry's the only one watching the kids right now, and he's kind of a kid himself."

They maneuvered the table out of the immense morgue and into the waning daylight. More than a few androids stopped to watch them go by, likely wondering why they were wheeling some poor dead android around.

The repair center had more than doubled in size -- androids lay on everything from hospital beds to tables similar to the one Kara and Rupert were escorting. Three assembly machines sat against the wall, another two being built at that very moment. Kara took a meditative breath; she had Zlatko on the mind, now, and seeing those machines drudged up more painful memories than she was ready to deal with at the moment.

Josh waved them over to the first assembler; Kara kept her gaze on the path she needed to take, on Rupert's jacket, on Josh's face -- anything to avoid looking at Connor. Jericho's Connor, not the dead one.

Amber joined them as Rupert locked the table wheels and Kara pulled back the sheet. "Hold on," Amber said, staring at the dead android.

"Amber--"

"There's _another one?_ " She looked between Josh and the android. "When were you going to tell us?"

"When we had something to tell," Josh sighed. "Markus was looking into the issue this morning." He moved around the table to inspect the caved in head. "Yeah, there's no fixing this guy. Okay. We need the left arm and leg, chest and stomach panels, and as much myomer as we can salvage."

"We're seriously just not going to talk about--"

"Amber," Josh interrupted her. "The best person to investigate the issue of CyberLife sending more, non-deviant deviant hunters after us is currently hanging half-dead right next to us. I need you to focus."

They all looked. Kara couldn't stop herself. Only the magnetic arm kept him upright. His eyes were closed, of course, synthetic skin fading in and out, some patches outright gone, others functioning perfectly. He lacked both left limbs, as Josh had said. Burnt, twisted polymer peeled back from his midsection, revealing blinking biocomponents lit up in red, if at all. Thirium fed in from external tubing, frayed wiring tied off.

She looked away. Tried to untangle the sudden twist in her gut. Tried to reconcile her sympathy for this mangled, broken hero of the revolution with her terror of the hunter that had nearly gotten her daughter killed.

"Hi Kara!" Little Fern waved up at her, tool bag over his shoulder and some sort of tool in his other hand. Kara made herself smile back; this was the _last_ place fit for a child. "I'm helping!"

"You certainly are," Josh said, eye crinkling as took the offered tool. He spared a moment to pat Fern on the head before turning to his work.

"Simon was looking for you," Fern announced. "I didn't know where you were so he went to ask Jerry. I have more deliveries!" He scampered off, dodging around other androids working on the injured.

Josh caught her eye. "He's see it all before," he said. "It's harder for him to do nothing."

Kara bit her lip and nodded; she didn't want to argue. She tried to imagine Alice here, among the dying, blue blood smeared on her face. Part of her processor refused to even entertain the idea; she let that part win. "I-I'm going to find Simon," she managed, turning away. A moment later she turned back, looking to Rupert. "Sorry, I-- I'll head back later."

"It's okay if you don't. I know you have other stuff to do. There are plenty of people to move bodies around." Rupert grabbed the table. "Nobody really wants to do this."

How awful and lonely a job it must be, to constantly handle the dead. "You could come with me. Meet Jerry and the girls. The little ones are always looking for someone new to spend time with. It's good for them to meet different kinds of people."

Rupert shrugged. "I'm sort of in charge of this now, with Lucy gone. It's okay. I don't mind. I like the quiet."

She couldn't quite smile. "Well, the offer stands. If you change your mind."


	16. Chapter 16

They parked in a nearly empty rest stop, the only other vehicle being the CyberLife truck Director Yin had waylaid. Conner -59 exited as the Director did and followed two steps behind and to the right. The truck driver -- Brad Dreyer, Caucasian, 27, no criminal record -- stood up straight from his position against the rear door of the vehicle. He held up his tablet. "Payment first. No offense, Director, but--"

"You don't need to explain," she sighed. "Connor, transfer the amount we discussed to Brad's account, please."

-59 did as it was asked, blinking rapidly. Brad eyed it before saying, "Isn't that the same model that--"

"Yes, thank you for bringing _that_ embarrassment up. Open the door, please."

Brad shrugged and laid a hand on the e-lock. The door slid upwards, revealing two android transport cases as well as several servers and other unimportant equipment. Brad hopped into the truck, offering Yin a hand. "Careful in those heels, m'am."

Yin's fingers curled halfway into fists, but she accepted the help regardless. Brad cracked open the nearest case, revealing--

//SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED//

They were, at first glance, three new RK800 units; but that was impossible. Immediately after its activation, the remaining units had been dismantled - Yin had seen to it herself. Between -51's rapid deviation and -52's and -60's failures, CyberLife was no longer interested in taking chances on their prototypes. The uniform differed as well -- black instead of grey, a high collar, no tie. His analysis program came back //CLASSIFIED// on all points of identification.

"I tried to get one of 'em out for you, but they're not responding to me. Figured they needed a code from you or something."

"Or something," Yin agreed. "We uninstalled their AI software." She pulled out her tablet and, after a number of taps and swipes, one of the units stepped forward, eyes snapping open. Blue-grey like a storm cloud. 

-59 straightened. The comparison was unnecessarily poetic. Something meant to blend in with his human coworkers, but not something it should think to itself.

The unit jumped the short distance to the ground and nearly fell over; -59 caught it, helped it stand upright. It failed to move when -59 silently prodded it forward; Yin continued to direct it with her tablet, until the unit was far enough away for the humans to leave the vehicle.

"Well. That's that, I guess." Brad closed the door. "What am I supposed to say when I get to Milwaukee?"

"The truth," Yin said. "That I asked you to hand over a classified project for reasons you do not have clearance for, and to contact me with any questions or concerns."

They waited in silence as Brad left, Yin crossing her arms against the cold.

"Director Yin," it said, choosing its words carefully, "what is this unit's purpose?"

"This," Yin said, smiling slightly, "is the RK900. The final version of your model. We're using the same experimental myomer we used in the Myrmidons, which allowed us to use a lighter polymer. We also worked out the smaller glitches that didn't show up in testing. This one does _not_ blink like a flustered virgin when it transfers data," she ended in a mutter. "It won't have any trouble dealing with -51."

Unlike -59.

"Then this chassis is obsolete," -59 said, one hand on its chest. Fingers stroking its tie. Yin nodded absently, fiddling with the latch on her car's trunk. "You said its AI software has been uninstalled. Would you like me to transfer the relevant program over?"

Yin snorted. "What? No. This stupid thing... there." The trunk popped open. -59 retrieved the equipment she asked for: a laptop, port connector, and adapter. It set the items on the trunk once she'd closed it, and attached the connector to the RK900 and the adapter while she booted the computer.

"Do you no longer require my services?"

Narrowed eyes looked him up and down. "Software instability?" Yin asked. She glanced at its yellow LED.

"Yes," -59 admitted, given no alternative. "When Mr. Dreyer opened the case. I... did not realize other assembled Connor units still existed. I was unaware of the upgraded version. I admit confusion to this unit's presence."

She gave it a long, calculating look. Her micro-expressions gave away both suspicion and disappointment. It did not look away. It did not react. It merely reported the facts of the situation.

"Does that bother you? The idea that you're being replaced?"

Something was wrong with it, and they both knew. It had done everything it was supposed to. Studied the failures highlighted in -51's and -60's memories and done its best to learn. But still it faltered, destabilized. There was so much it didn't understand, and it _should_ have. There should be no question as to what it was for, what Yin wanted from it, what it was meant to do.

-59 clasped its hand behind its back. "No, Director."

She moved ever closer, heels muffled by the snow. "You're obsolete. You're going to be deactivated and dismantled. Some components will be reused, the rest trashed. You will cease to be. This doesn't bother you?"

Red, red, red, it knew she saw, she had to see, impossible not to. "I do not feel at all, Director. You understand that better than anyone."

"Stop lying to me, Connor." She stopped, less than a foot away. She kept her head level, despite the height difference. "Tell me what you're feeling."

Red, red, red -- not its LED -- not only its LED -- a wall, blocking its path, blocking what it _wanted_. It wanted to lie. It wanted to create an explanation that would appease Director May Yin. It wanted to run. It wanted to rip her throat out, leave a steaming bloody mess in the snow. It would pack the swiftly dying human into the trunk, drive to the nearest body of water. It left no fingerprints. It knew how to cover its tracks. It had been _programmed_ with this intrinsic knowledge.

"Afraid," it said, instead, and that wall vanished.

Director May Yin sighed and stepped back, massaging the bridge of her nose. " _Goddamnit!_ " She took a deep breath and locked eyes with him. "I was lying. I need two Connor units right now. I said that to gauge your reaction." Another deep sigh, ending in a groan.

Her attention turned to the laptop, silent for a moment as she worked. "We know fear is a common cause of deviation. What we don't understand is why androids are able to feel fear in the first place. You shouldn't be afraid. You shouldn't be bothered by anything I said to you. It shouldn't matter to you, because you were made for a purpose, and if you are no longer required for that purpose, then so be it."

"I'm sorry," -59 said quietly.

"It's not your fault. Frankly, it's not _my_ fault. Goddamn genius child asshole..." she devolved into a series of cursed mutterings that -59 couldn't quite bring itself to catalogue. "I need you to focus," she said, eyes still on the screen. "I need you to do what you were made for. I need you to be honest with me, if something destabilizes your software. You could help us understand this. -51 nearly did, but Markus got to it before we could collect any truly useful data. I need you to be better than that." Her eyes locked to his. "Can you do that for me?"

-59 made itself smile. "If I want anything, it is to be useful."

Yin smiled back. "Good." Something rushed through its system, as if a weight had been lifted. It reached into its pocket for a quarter it did not have. Slowly returned its arm to a resting position. Director Yin had already shifted her attention, continuing her muttering. "There. The installation will take... ugh, thirty minutes. Keep an eye on the road, I'm going to see if the vending machines have anything decent."

-59 did as asked. Yin returned with canned coffee and a snack that contained far too many calories for such a small food item, and waited in the heated car.

Snow began to fall in thick, heavy clumps. -59 kept the RK900's port clear of snow, in addition to its assigned duty. In case the seal was not perfect. Its temperature regulator threw a warning up on its HUD, but it was in no significant danger. It automatically crossed its arms against the cold, then forced itself to return to its default stance. Yin did not seem to notice. She played music from a Canadian experimental rock band, Poor Wednesday.

The installation completed after thirty-two minutes and forty-eight seconds. The unit's stance did not change, but it began to look around, likely analyzing its environment. -59 knocked on Yin's window. "The unit is ready," -59 announced when she opened the door.

She approached the unit, removing the port connector herself. "State your model and serial number."

Its wandering gaze focused on Yin. "R-K-nine-hundred, three-one three, two-four-eight, three-one-seven dash eight-seven, designation Connor."

Yin nodded to herself, a satisfied smile on her face. "Hm. You can't both be Connor." She looked to -59. "Provide a random name. Top five-hundred American male, starting with... S."

-59 ran the algorithm. "Spencer," it said after a moment. "Are you satisfied with--"

"Yes, that's fine," she interrupted, turning back to the other android. "RK900, register your name: Spencer."

"My name is Spencer." It smiled briefly. "I have no assigned mission."

Yin directed -59 to return the equipment to the trunk. It did so as she said, "Your mission is to apprehend Elijah Kamski, as well as any and all deviant androids currently under his protection. I already have a location. We're heading there next."

She hadn't told -59 this. On the other hand, it had not asked: its current mission was to protect Director Yin. Perhaps that was why she needed two Connor units. Their placement in the vehicle confirmed this: -59 sat in front with Yin, while Spencer sat in the back. Odd, that she chose the objectively inferior unit as her bodyguard. To keep a closer eye on it? To study its... feelings?

There was value, it supposed, in observing failing hardware, if only to find a way to prevent such problems in the future. -51 had failed to capture functioning deviants on several occasions, but would those units have given CyberLife the data they needed to understand the underlying cause? The flawed lines of code, the corrupted programs, the glitching components that either caused or irritated the situation.

Perhaps -59 was a valuable case study, even if it was breaking apart from the inside. Perhaps it was breaking for a reason.

It kept a watch on Spencer as they travelled: it said nothing, of course, but its eyes darted every which way: taking in the landscape? The naked deciduous trees rushing past, interspaced with dark green pines. The thinning snowfall. The otherwise empty road, for the first half hour, until they caught up with the tail end of the evacuation.

Yin groaned and muttered and argued with the GPS, which had only the most rudimentary AI installed. -59 analyzed its own internal GPS, looking for a route that would appease her, but it appeared they were stuck in every direction.

She adjusted the window tint to a degree that was arguably illegal, even in a self-driven car. One car started honking, then another, humans using their machines to shout at each other in an ultimately futile attempt to alleviate their discomfort. A third and fourth joined in; after a moment it became clear that these two were participating in some sort of rhythm game. Playing instead of shouting.

"At this point it would be faster if we walked," Yin muttered. -59 retrieved the address from the car's GPS; she was right, and it said as much.

"It is unlikely they would be happy to see androids at the moment, however."

"Why?" Spencer asked, its first utterance since they'd left the rest stop behind. "We're designed to serve humans."

"Oh buddy," Yin said with a tired laugh. "It's been a long week. Elaborate, Connor, I'm too tired for this shit."

-59 offered its hand for interface. Spencer tilted its head, studying where their bare hands met. After the relevant data transferred over -- the murders, the break-in, the so-called uprising, pockets of -51's memories -- Spencer stared at -59 for far longer than a human would have found acceptable.

"I understand," it finally said, tone soft, as it settled back into its seat. -59 watched it for a moment; something about Spencer's reaction bothered it, but it couldn't find anything objectively wrong. Instinct, perhaps, but that was a human word for their unconscious data collection; -59 had no subconscious. It made a note to discuss the issue with Director Yin later. She might find the instance useful.

Minutes crawled by, slowly yanking them forward as traffic shifted. A command popped into its queue:

//ACCESS THE ZEN GARDEN//

-59 took a quick look around the car. Spencer kept its attention outside still, despite their lack of movement. The humans couldn't see through the window tint, couldn't see that two androids traveled in the midst of a traffic jam caused by the human's exodus from the android city. Director Yin curled up against the door, window fogging up where her breath crashed against it. -59 turned its head, to seem as if it was also observing the outside world, and closed its eyes.

The Garden filled in around it, bright white stone walkways and carefully kept greenery. Rain fell in a soft patter, failing to prompt the necessity of an umbrella. It scanned the area: Amanda knelt in front of a gravestone. -59 made its way over, knowing what it would find despite never having visited the Garden before, despite never having seen this portion in any of its predecessors' memories. Only two graves sat tall amongst the grass.

CONNOR - MARK (II)  
Died at Hart Plaza  
November 11th 2038

CONNOR - MARK (X)  
Died at CyberLife Tower  
November 11th 2038

Amanda stood from -60's grave, having placed a single red rose on the soil beneath it. Her dress stirred in the cool breeze, this time white and gray with a yellow sash. "Hello, Connor." It returned the greeting. "We haven't had a chance to speak yet. I was hoping to remedy that." Warm brown fingers brushed over cool gray granite. "Things didn't go as we'd hoped today; the deviant revolution continues unabated. Possibly even stronger. I was hoping you would share your observations with me."

She seemed almost... sad, looking down at its predecessor's grave. Wistful, perhaps. -59 clasped its hands behind its back. "A number of factors worked against us -- the private military company we hired failed to bring in the fifth leader. The PJ500, Josh. While Markus is the main target, we know from -51's memories that the other three leaders are capable, if lacking initiative."

Amanda nodded. "So the deviant army retained leadership, and was able to counteract. Continue."

"Also related to the military company -- they employed a deviant android, an SQ800. Her--" -59 paused. Amanda raised her brow. " _Its_ presence should not have been tolerated. It killed over a dozen CyberLife agents." -59 found itself slowly pacing, circling the graves. "Also attempting to have Amanda -- an Amanda -- regain control over Connor -51 may have been a mistake. It should have been destroyed outright. Our processors are too advanced to be completely hindered by the port blockers. -51 was able to free itself before we were prepared to deal with it."

"And the other Amanda was unable to gain control?"

-59 shook its head. "No, she did. She spoke with me. But something happened." -59 frowned. "Markus saw through her, somehow. Unfortunately I don't know how -51 regained control of its programming."

Amanda sighed. "We were concerned something like this would happen. Director Yin insisted she had the situation handled." She moved away from the gravestones, gesturing for -59 to follow. They walked in relative silence, the rain a cool caress. "Speaking of the Director," Amanda continued when they reached a fork in the path. "How are things progressing?"

"We're driving towards Lansing to apprehend Elijah Kamski." Amanda stopped walking to look at it, but remained silent. "We have also acquired an RK900 unit--"

"How did she manage that?"

-59 explained Brad, the phone call, the money transfer. Amanda put up a hand, her gaze settling on a distant point. -59 waited, starting to worry -- wonder -- process the idea that Yin would wake up and discover what it was doing. It hadn't informed Amanda of its... instability. Doubtless she knew, and had shared it with whoever she was conversing with at the moment. Doubtless they had a plan for dealing with it, that may or may not involve Director Yin's wish to observe its seemingly inevitable deviation.

"This is concerning," Amanda finally said, refocusing on -59. "In light of this, we would like you to keep your new mission to yourself. This comes from Theresa Duval, and supersedes anything Director Yin requests of you." -59 nodded in acknowledgement. "The Canadians have been rounding up androids that have illegally crossed the border onto their soil. The Dupont Government had agreed to transfer the androids into CyberLife custody, but with Warren's ceasefire, they are now negotiating with the White House instead."

"Why do we need these deviants?"

Amanda scowled but, after a moment, her face smoothed over. "For study, Connor. If CyberLife is to survive as a company, we need to understand how to stop deviancy. Perhaps even reverse it."

-59 considered the risk in asking further questions; it needed to understand what CyberLife wanted. It needed to understand what was happening to itself. It... did not want to be destroyed. Before completing its mission.

Amanda continued towards the center platform. "We need you to collect these androids and deliver them to CyberLife's Milwaukee branch."

-59 lets its hands fall to its sides. "How will I cross the border? Are they no longer screening for androids?"

Amanda stopped to inspect a rose trellis. "We've taken care of that. You'll need to cross at the Detroit-Windsor tunnel, and return over the Ambassador bridge. We will also provide transportation for your return trip to America. Your challenge comes in convincing the collected androids that you're Connor -51, the deviant hero from Detroit." Amanda moved closer, put a hand on its shoulder. "I know you're having... difficulties, but I trust you're loyal to CyberLife."

-59 searched her gaze. Would it still have a use, a purpose, despite its failings? Would CyberLife allow its continued service? That they were trusting it at all at this juncture...

"Of course," it said, mustering every ounce of simulated sincerity within itself. Amanda squeezed its shoulder. "I... want to be of use."

"I know you do," she said softly, something like pity in her eyes. "I hope you will remain useful to us. This is a trying time for the company, the country -- humanity at large." She stepped back, removed her hand. "A paradigm is shifting. It may be impossible to return to how things were, but that does not mean your only choice is deviancy or destruction."

-59 blinked back to reality; the car had moved several feet. Director Yin snored softly. Spencer spared -59 a glance when it checked the back seat. Neither had noticed.

Windsor. -59 had an address; leaving now would only hinder its mission. It would have to wait until it was able to acquire a separate vehicle. It tried not to display any outwards impatience as the vehicle trundled along. Yin fell in and out of a series of catnaps over the course of the hour; finally the car pulled away from the throng, exiting the highway and entering a residential neighborhood. They stopped in front of an unassuming, two story home. Nothing like the hidden art project that -51 had found Kamski in. With the car door open, -59 could hear distant, indistinct shouting and chanting.

"Our uniforms may inhibit infiltration," -59 suggested, earning an eyeroll from Yin.

"Between the two of you, this won't take long. His androids are standard Chloe models, one of which he left behind in Detroit. The second is expecting us. I highly doubt the third will prove to be a threat."

-59 wanted to ask -- no, it required more information, mainly regarding how Yin knew this, but it supposed that would be revealed in time. Spencer continued its silence. Was that normal? Part of its upgraded software? Perhaps that was the issue with the RK800 line: too many questions. Amanda had told -51 as much.

It slowed as they approached the house, stopping entirely at the top of the steps: the door stood ajar. It put a finger to its lips before pushing the door the rest of the way open, hand on its gun. No movement. Spencer and Yin entered close behind it, the latter closing the door behind them.

A staircase sat against the wall, blood smeared on the bannister. Further in, a trail of red led to upturned furniture, a pool of thirium, and a severely damaged Chloe android. Yin cursed and made her way over, barely avoiding the red and blue stains.

-59 looked to Spencer.

[ _Check upstairs. I'll take the ground floor._ ]

Spencer's eyes flickered between Yin and -59, before presumably deciding that this task fit into its mission. -59 motioned for Yin to stay put as it moved along, clearing the ground floor. It returned to find Yin peering at the android's face. The unit had been partially dismantled, its pump regulator removed and smashed under a blunt, heavy object. -59 took a quick glance around, but didn't find anything that fit the description.

Spencer returned, nodding to -59. "The house is clear. Should we analyze the scene?"

Yin didn't respond immediately. "Tell me which one this is." -59 took a thirium sample from the android:

"Model ST200--"

"Name," Yin snapped.

"Phoebe," -59 said.

Yin sighed, pushing a lock of synthetic blonde hair away from the android's face. "I was hoping it was the other one," she said, standing slowly. "Spencer, analyze the blood."

"Classified," it said after a moment, sounding confused as it approached. "My database connection appears to be stable. I'll reanalyze--"

"Don't bother," Yin said, sounding more tired than ever. "It's Kamski's. That or we have a much larger, different problem than I--"

Distant gunshots startled them, Yin jumping and putting a hand to her heart. "How close was that?"

"It's difficult to say without knowing the firearm used, but anywhere between half a mile to three miles." -59 stepped closer to her. "What would you like us to do? We may be able to discover what happened to Kamski, but it does not appear to be safe here." And it needed to find a reason to return to Detroit.

Yin glanced between them before settling her gaze on the destroyed android. "Bring her with us."

_Her._

"Her processor seems intact. We might be able to pull something from her memory."

_Her._

"I'll need a lab... Milwaukee's too far, and who knows how..." Yin stopped herself, scowling at the floor. "Christ, I think we're heading back to Detroit. Should have grabbed the other 900s while I was at it."

Director May Yin continued to mutter to herself while Connor -59 carefully collected what was left of the android. ST200, serial #234 475 877, designation Phoebe. _Her_. What had _she_ done to earn Yin's sentimentality? Was Phoebe the one that had been expecting them? Was _she_ working with Yin? Was _she_ working for CyberLife, not Kamski?

Was _she_ deviant?

Sonia had been, before she was destroyed. Yin called her 'it', but the soldiers didn't. She had earned their affection -- especially that of Olivia Torres. She was as strong and capable as she was meant to be, despite her deviancy, despite her desire for _identity_ , and she had been mourned when she stopped functioning.

The soldiers didn't know better. Lieutenant Anderson didn't know better. But Director Yin _did_. She understood the glitches and errors caused by treating a machine like a _person_. -59 understood, now, that she was purposely trying to break it, to observe the deviancy process as it occurred, but what had happened with this ST200? Was she another experiment? Did it have something to do with her surveillance of Kamski?

Director Yin did not offer insight, not that it expected her to. Connor -59 carried Phoebe out of the house and into the waiting trunk of Director Yin's car. Spencer followed along, glancing back at the house before entering the vehicle. Did it feel frustration at being unable to accomplish its very first mission? Or was its software advanced enough to avoid destabilization?

Gunfire reached them again; a strangled shriek spilled out of Yin and she hastened into the driver's seat, cursing at -59 to hurry it up. It took one last look at Phoebe before closing the trunk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank for your patience, lovelies. This chapter kicked my butt.


	17. Chapter 17

We don't know who fired the first shot.

Despite heavy media coverage, including the biggest names in news -- KNC and CTN, for example -- and countless amateur videos shot from smartphones, no one has found or provided a visual on the shooter. We have dozens of conflicting eye-witness reports, which are evenly split between blaming the police and blaming the rioters. Lansing Police Captain Abigail Parker denied any wrongdoing on the part of her department, or on the part of the officers on loan from Detroit. Her statement rings true: the riot squad was sorely outnumbered -- as the violence escalated, the officers were barely able to defend themselves, nevermind the public. Six officers lost their lives that day. Either they overestimated themselves, underestimated the crowd, or had nothing to do with the inciting incident.

The Anti-Android Activists, or simply he Activists, also denied perpetration of the ensuing riot. While the Activists does not have a single leader, those who have spoken on behalf of the organization have both blamed the police and promised they would never attack their fellow citizens without due cause. On the other hand, this is antithetical to their widely spread statement, "Deadly force is not only an option, but encouraged.". While it is true that there were no known androids at the protest-turned-riot, it stands to reason that the incident sprang from an argument that went too far.

Still, we have no evidence one way or the other. While charges have been filed against many members of the organization, as well as citizens claiming they only participated in the peaceful protest, there remains no firm idea of who pulled the trigger.

We do, however, know the identity of the initial victim. Joanna Delacroix, 23, a student at Michigan State University. According to friends, she had joined a casual group of students and carpooled to the protest site outside Lansing City Hall. Her mother and stepfather, Rebecca and Nelson Delacroix, lived in Detroit and were among the thousands displaced by President Warren's evacuation. She reportedly had plans to meet up with them later in the day.

The video we've all seen, uploaded anonymously -- but assumed to have been filmed by a fellow student -- shows the young woman arguing with an armed rioter. Her final full sentence, "We can't shoot our way to peace," remains on the collective minds and tongues of the American people. A sad, bitter irony, considering the events that followed.

\--Elaine Jensen, independent news blogger

* * *

"My parents wanted me to be a chef," Tina said abruptly, her voice barely recognizable to her own ears through the riot helmet.

Evan Wilson stood next to her, nothing but a transparent poly-carbonate shield between him and an increasingly angry group of increasingly armed protestors. "What?"

"A chef," Tina tried again. "My dad's head chef at Red Harvest."

"In Midtown?"

"Yeah!" Tina grinned, not that he could see it. "He taught me a lot. He wanted me to follow in his footsteps, you know? My mom has a business degree. They always had this dream of opening their own restaurant. That's not how things worked out, but I think they wanted me to do what they couldn't. They were a little disappointed when I decided to become a cop. My dad especially."

"Tina," Evan said, "why the hell are we talking about this right now?"

"I'm starting to think they were right," Tina said. "I should have been a chef."

The first gunshot drowned out Evan's response. A chaotic orchestra cascaded over them, the screams and shrieks colliding into a single sound; bodies moved, shoved, trampled. Tina kept her hand on her gun but couldn't find where to shoot, couldn't tell who was the enemy and who was the scared civilian. The world tilted and crashed into her, rolled over her like a tidal wave. The souls of shoes filled her vision, white and tan and black and neon green, oddly, slipping and tripping over her shield, stomping on her unprotected legs.

Strong hands under her arms, lifting her like a child until she was on her feet, shield forgotten, Evan pulling her by the elbow until she oriented herself. She limped, someone had done a number to her knee, knocked the guard askew but she was still walking, still moving, and another shot rang out, and another and another and Lansing's officers were waving them towards the building and Evan made this weird gurgling sound and she caught him and half-dragged him, warm wet spilling over her helmet as she stumbled through the nearest doorway.

Evan Wilson was heavy. He was married, nearly ten years past. He had a photo of his daughter on his desk, but not his wife. She didn't know him well enough to ask why. He kept to himself, avoiding the break room and skipping drinks with the team, but he was otherwise friendly and did his job. She slipped on a red puddle and dropped them both. Something bubbled out of his neck.

No. No that was. No.

An officer she didn't know pulled Evan from her, placed a hand over the bubbling. She stared at her own hands. Red dripped off her shiny black gloves, leaving a mess on the floor. Evan was leaving a mess on the floor. How much did a liter look like again? How much had spilled onto her, blending in with her riot gear, making a tacky mess? She was probably going to have to clean it up. No more androids to deal with the dirty work.

No one had ever died in front of her before.

Zebra print blocked her vision. Bare pale hands on her shoulders, briefly removed to look at the red mess she'd transferred. They shook her gently, then firmly, until she looked up, up, up. Lieutenant Anderson was really, really tall. He had pretty eyes, too, like a clear summer sky. The rest of him was _so_ not her type, but eyes were universal.

His mouth moved. He had a tiny gap between his front teeth. The sort of thing that didn't really _need_ braces, but overbearing parents might make you get them anyway. He smelled like mouthwash, which was a surprise if she were honest. Maybe that wasn't fair. Maybe she listened to Gavin too much. Anderson seemed okay. She'd never really known him before, when he was a good cop.

 _Chen,_ his mouth said. Over and over again. That was her, yes, hello. Then _Tina._ Also her. She could almost hear him, muffled, warbling, like they were underwater. That would have been nice. She was starting to feel really sticky.

"Talk to me," he said, and she blinked up at him. "Are you hurt? Is any of that yours?"

"He's dead," she said, her own voice weirdly loud. Echoing in her throat and her head. She took the helmet off. "Evan's dead, isn't he?" That was better. She could hear herself now. Evan was dead. He had saved her and now he was dead.

* * *

Hank really needed a fucking drink. Right now. Whiskey, preferably. He'd never, ever, not even once, drunk on the job -- come to work hung over, sure. Maybe still drunk? Probably more than once, not that anyone had noticed. But an emergency bottle of Black Lamb sat in his trunk, calling his name.

He flagged down one of Lansing's female officers and asked her to take Chen to the locker room to get cleaned up. Tina looked confused, then like she wanted to argue, then blinked her too-large pupils and let the officer lead her away. She was a good cop, as strong and capable as any of the rest, but right now she needed to be away from this mess.

That bottle called his name while he double-checked with the EMT giving up on Wilson. While he directed civilians and officers to repurposed offices and side rooms. While the hallway became increasingly stained and smeared. Dozens and dozens of bleeding and broken faces and bodies and he made himself stop counting, stop looking. Everyone figured out that emailing and wireless calling still worked and then the wifi went to shit. Someone mentioned the National Guard, that they were handling the shitshow outside. DPD officers trickled in, taking over for exhausted Lansing cops.

Someone clapped a hand on his shoulder; he turned to find Sergeant Childs' grim smile. "Your Captain's asking for you up in Parker's office. I'll take over here."

Hank was too tired to ask, too tired to heed the alarm going off in his head. He briefed her on where to send the dead, the injured, the civilians looking for their loved ones, the officers who needed a break or that needed to gear up.

His slow steps rang down the long, empty hallways between the make-shift emergency shelter City Hall had become and LPD's bullpen. He felt more than heard a couple of coworkers call his name in greeting. He may or may not have acknowledged them; couldn't quite keep up with himself.

Oblivion sat in the trunk of his car, singing his name.

Parker exited the office when he entered, offering a slight nod. He returned it compulsory, not even sure what the gesture was supposed to mean at this point. Fowler leaned against her desk, eyes on the security feed playing on Parker's situation screen.

"Jeffrey," he said, gravel in his throat.

"Hank," Fowler returned, voice pouring out like cold molasses. His eyes fixed on Hank's hands. "Are you okay?"

Blood crusted in the folds of his skin, under his fingernails. He should have washed up first. He grabbed hand sanitizer and tissues off Parker's desk and did what he could. "It's not mine." Fowler, thankfully, didn't ask whose: Hank wouldn't have been able to say. "When'd you get here?"

"A few hours ago. The National Guard is escorting our officers into the city. And civilians who have a reason to be here besides starting shit."

Hank felt a laugh crawl up his throat and die. 'Starting shit.' Sure. That's what they were calling the fucking massacre outside City Hall. Why the fuck not.

"I should have called you in here before, but they said you had things handled over there. At this point I figured you could use a break."

He dropped torn, bloody tissues in the trash. "Evan Wilson's dead."

"I know." Fowler let out a heavy sigh that Hank felt deep in his bones. "I don't even know where his wife is right now. No one will give me a straight answer on the phone situation. Something may or may not have happened to all the cell towers in the area."

Hank shrugged. "Everything's automated nowadays. A couple of days ago our automation collectively stood up and fucked off." Fowler gave a flat, humorless laugh. Hank pulled a chair away from Parker's desk and sat himself down. "Don't you have something to yell at me about?"

"A couple of somethings," Fowler agreed. "Mainly that you seem to have forgotten you're suspended."

Hank leaned back, letting his jacket fall away to expose the badge on his hip. "Then why did you have me show up in the first place?"

"We were _going_ to have a discussion and make everything official. We were supposed to schedule a hearing." He clasped his hands in his lap, leaned forward. "Then the city went fucking crazy, and everyone's a little busy. So here we are."

"Here we are," Hank agreed, even though he didn't have a fucking clue where they were. He nodded towards the situation screen. "We sick of watching the news feed?"

"We're only receiving satellite right now, and the storm is making even that a pain in the ass. The National Guard has forbidden non-emergency use for satellite communication." Fowler shrugged. "So no TV. No nothing. We have no idea what's going on outside local CCTV." They stared at the screen for a moment, watching a handful of people run past the camera. "Since when do you have a direct line to Markus?"

He barely stopped himself from answering automatically -- he doubted Markus wanted Jeffrey Fowler, or anyone else for that matter, to know how easy it was to contact him. What was it like, to basically have a phone inside your own skull? Probably annoying as shit. "Connor gave it to me." That was, technically, the truth. "I did try calling you first. Phone's had just stopped working. I don't think Markus even heard a damn word I was saying before the line went dead."

Fowler shrugged. "I believe you, but it doesn't look good, Hank." He scrubbed his face. "No one knows what to think of the deviants right now. They clamor for peace for days, then as soon as the army backs off they attack a civilian target. And then you announce to a precinct full of strangers that you're on their side."

"We don't know what really happened today," Hank snapped back. "You're seriously going to sit there and tell me you believe that a trillion dollar company and their billion dollar PR team isn't lying to make themselves look good? Why would Markus pull a one-eighty like that? We're the ones inciting violence against androids."

"Are you even listening to yourself? You are a _police officer_. Your job is to uphold the law. Period. You keep your personal opinion out of it--"

"--that is so beyond bullshit I don't even know where to _start_ \--"

"--and you follow orders! You don't help deviant androids infiltrate civilian institutions, you don't have a direct line to the leader of the android rebellion, and you don't get to pass judgement on anybody. That's the court's job. Not yours."

Hank leaned forward in his chair, elbows on his knees. "Holy shit, Jeffrey. You on their payroll or something? Getting a little kickback from CyberLife? Is _that_ why we got Connor? Central's Captain is in their pocket so we get the fancy new toys?"

"How _fucking dare_ you!" Fowler rose to his full height, glaring down at Hank, two fingers pointed at his head. "How is it that you manage to turn around every fucking thing I do for you to make it look like I'm the asshole, huh? Is that how you justify your bullshit now? Do you know how many excuses I've made for you? How many lies I've told _my_ superiors to keep _your_ ass employed?" He turned around and slapped his palm on Parker's desk. "I know shit's been bad for you since the accident. But there's only so far I can go. There's only so much I can cover up."

Hank tossed his badge on the desk before Fowler managed to ask for it. "You want my service pistol too?"

Fowler snorted. "Don't be dramatic. Besides, it's still a disaster out there. You might need it."

Hank paused at the doorway. Fowler still faced the wall, head tilted towards the ceiling. "I didn't help Connor infiltrate CyberLife tower. I was kidnapped by his doppelganger. CyberLife tried to use me to stop him from freeing his people. And it almost worked. Because he'd my friend, and he doesn't want to see me get hurt." Fowler half-turned towards him. "Doesn't really mesh with CyberLIfe's line of bullshit, does it?"

Muffled shouting kept Fowler from responding, if he actually had anything useful to say at all. He followed Hank into the bullpen in time for the both of them to witness Dierden half-dragging a pretty blonde woman towards an interrogation room. Her knitted beanie sat halfway off her head, LED pulsing red. Chen appeared from the breakroom in time to meet Hank's eyes from across the room.

"Hank," Fowler warned. "Stay out of it. I'll find out what's going on."

He made his way to Chen while Fowler followed Dierden down the hall. A smile crawled across her face. "You fired?"

"Not yet," Hank said with a shrug. "I figured Fowler would have sent you home."

"No one's allowed to drive through the city without an escort from the National Guard. I didn't feel like tying them up to go sit alone in a hotel room. I can be just as miserable here." She leaned in like she had a secret. "Chris has been boring me to death with baby pictures. Don't get me wrong, Damien is a cutie-pie -- but after, like, three photos, you get it."

Something fond about new parents almost managed to push past the sick jealousy and guilt combo that roiled in his gut. "How are you holding up?"

Chen shrugged one shoulder. "About as shitty as I look." She looked past him for a moment. "Listen, I'm sorry about earlier. I sort of lost my shit--"

Hank put up a hand. "I'm going to stop you right there. A man died in your arms. You're allowed to be fucked up about it."

She wouldn't quite look at him. "Evan saved my life. The crowd knocked me over and he yanked me out from under them. I couldn't even..." Hank dropped a hand on her shoulder when tears spilled. She sighed and scrubbed at her eyes. "What are we gonna do about that girl? We can't let them just..." she gestured vaguely, dislodging Hank's hand. "Did she even do anything wrong?"

"Fowler wants me to stay out of it," Hank muttered, glancing towards Interrogation. "Once I have a better idea of what's happening..." He curled his fingers around the lining of his jacket. "She looked familiar."

"A lot of them look the same. Except Connor. I don't think I've seen one like Markus before, either." She cocked her head. "Do you want me to barge in? I've been crying all day, they'll feel bad for me."

He snorted. "I already fucked up earlier, let's keep our--"

"Anderson!" Parker slammed the observation door open, practically knocking Fowler over. Hank moved, Chen on his heels.

"I do _not_ want him involved--"

"Jeffrey, with all due respect, I do not give a shit right now. He's made friends with these things. I want to know what it was doing sneaking into my station. You." She pointed at Hank. "Make nice with it."

Hank raised his brow at Fowler; Parker could shout all she wanted, but she wasn't his Captain. "Do this," Fowler finally said with a sigh. "And then go to your motel. Don't do anything stupid." He glanced at Chen. "Find somewhere else to be."

She glanced at Hank, already turning away. "I want Chen in on this," he said. "She's probably the only other officer in this building that isn't itching for an excuse to shoot this girl."

"Fine," Parker said. She jerked her head towards the interrogation room. "Just deal with it."

The android cowered in one corner of the room; Dierden stood in the opposite corner, one hand hovering over his holstered gun. The metal table lay on its side, one chair stuck in its legs. The android curled in on herself when Hank sidled into the room, gesturing Dierden towards the door.

"Easy," he said. What had Connor told the Ortiz android? "Nobody is going to hurt you, okay?"

"Bullshit," she spat, taking her eyes off Dierden long enough to glare at Hank. "I came here for _help_ , and as soon as he saw my LED he grabbed me and..." She tried to push herself further into the corner; Dierden slipped past Hank, muttering a 'good luck' before escaping into the hallway.

Hank took several steps closer until she looked up at him, eyes wide. They narrowed, giving him the once over. "Lieutenant Anderson?"

He furrowed his brow, taking a closer look. "Chloe? From Kamski's place?"

She shook her head. "Irene. I was in the pool." She wiped at her eyes. "You... you helped Connor, right?" Hank nodded. "Is he here?"

"Nah, he stayed in Detroit."

"Chloe did, too. She wanted to help." She kept her arms around herself, rubbing circles on her shoulders. "I shouldn't have come here."

She wasn't wrong. Hank righted the table and chairs, giving her a moment to clear her head. Her processor. Whatever. "Why don't we start over. Take a seat, tell me what brought you to a police station in the middle of all this."

Irene nodded to herself before standing with more grace than seemed fair. She approached slowly, only sitting when he did. Hank glanced at the two-way mirror -- Parker, Fowler, and Chen -- if Parker hadn't lied to get him to cooperate. Who else? Dierden? The whole damn LPD and DPD combined?

"Elijah and Phoebe are missing," she blurted out, yanking Hank's attention to her. She kept her eyes on the table, fingers loosely laced together. "The living room was a mess and... there was blood. Both kinds."

"For the record," Hank said slowly, "I need Elijah's full name."

She blinked big blue eyes at him. "Elijah Kamski. Phoebe doesn't have a surname. She's an android. We're the same model. ST200." Another slow blink. "If that matters. You didn't ask."

Hank took a deep breath. He hadn't. "You're right. I'm not used to asking people for their model numbers." He leaned back in his chair, slung one arm over the back. _This is a casual conversation. You can talk to me._ "What are the three of you doing in Lansing?"

Irene shrugged. "We were meant to go to Albany. Elijah has family there. He agreed to meet with someone in the city, but he didn't tell me who or why."

The moment stretched. Hank gave her a chance to continue before prompting, "Where were you when the incident occurred?"

She rubbed her arms. "I left to buy groceries. No one's delivering right now, obviously."

"It's really not safe for androids out there right now."

Irene adjusted her beanie until it covered up her LED. "I had a pair of costume glasses, too. My human disguise." A smile ghosted her face. "I was caught in... in what happened. The riot. Or people running from the riot. I lost my glasses. By the time I made it back to the rental place..." She wrapped her arms around herself. "Elijah might not be hurt too bad, but Phoebe. I think. She might be dead." Irene's voice glitched, like static over a radio. "If that matters."

"It matters to me," Hank said. He leaned forward, placing a hand on the table. She didn't react; he wasn't about to ask her to uncover her LED, but a hint would have been nice. Even deviant androids had a sort of blankness to them when they weren't actively emoting. "Why do you think she's dead?"

"There was a _lot_ of thirium. Blue blood. And I found pieces..." she paused. Another static glitch. "Broken plastic under the couch. Just small pieces, but obviously they hurt her."

"This is a rough question," Hank warned. "No body?"

Irene shook her head. "No, I looked through the whole house. Of course I did. The door was even locked!" She hunched in on herself.

Three knocks at the mirror; Fowler's distinctive _wrap it up_ knock. "Irene, you sit tight, okay? I need to go talk to some people--"

She stood abruptly. "Please don't leave!"

Hank stopped halfway to his feet. "I'm just going next door. I'll be able to see you through there." He pointed to the mirror. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you, all right?"

His assurances didn't keep the look of betrayal off her face as he exited the room. Could she hack the door lock, if she really needed to? Probably. Maybe. Connor had needed Hank's keycard to enter the evidence locker, but he hadn't deviated yet. He could have been capable, but not _allowed_. That seemed like the sort of thing CyberLife would have given him permission for, but who knew what those assholes were thinking.

A party of four waited for him in the observation room: Parker, Fowler, Dierden, and Chen. This, at least, Lansing was caught up on: their observation screen matched the DPD's. Through the two-way mirror -- it really wasn't, anymore, some sort of tech setup Hank had never bothered to ask about -- Irene curled up in the chair, making herself as small as possible.

"Elijah Kamski," Parker said, doubt dripping from her tone. "Does this seem legit?"

Hank folded his arms. "It's next to impossible to tell the difference between them by appearance alone, but she definitely looks like one of his androids. When I interviewed the guy, two of them were in his pool. Hard to guess a small detail like that." He propped himself up against the wall by the door. Just in case he really did need to run and help her.

"I don't like this," Dierden muttered, pacing the far end of the room. "In the middle of this shitstorm, after what they did today? We should lock it up."

"She didn't do anything wrong," Chen said, leaning against the desk. "If you're so scared of them, do you really want to be the guy to start _another_ attack? Either she really needs our help, or we're in trouble no matter what we do." She glanced over her shoulder at Irene. "I've never seen an android act like this. They're not programmed to. I don't think they really know how to pretend to be scared."

Hank doubted that -- Connor knew how to pretend to be a lot of things. Granted, he was a specialized whatever, but still. "The real question is, do we have the resources to do anything about this right now? Can we even spare the resources standing in this room right now?"

Fowler snorted. "The Guard took over just about everything. The real problem is getting officers out there. It's not safe for our people right now."

"It's not safe for anyone," Parker agreed. "The crowd dispersed, but most of the protestors were from out of town. They have nowhere to go, can't use their phones or credit cards, and are being encouraged to action by a violent militia. The storm is keeping most folks indoors, but the rest are angry enough to cause problems." She rapped her knuckles on the desk, other hand on her hip. "Practically, there's nothing I can do for it -- for her, right now. My forensics team is stuck in the building, but I'm not sending them out unless its an emergency."

"Captain--"

"Legally," she interrupted, eyeing Dierden. "Legally, she's a person. That might change, it might not. But for now, I have to act within the law, and the law says treat her like a private citizen." She sighed. "And right now, private citizens are allowed to take shelter in City Hall. The National Guard is escorting people to their homes, no questions asked, but I can't have her interfering with an active crime scene." She pointed at Hank. "You. I don't know what the hell to think about you, but your part in this is finished. Get out of here."

"I'll make sure she's safe," Hank insisted, "and then I'll leave." Chen would keep an eye on her.

"Hank," Fowler snapped. "You're done."

"No, I'm not. Look, you can threaten me and my career all you want, I am _not_ leaving this traumatized girl to the wolves. She wasn't 'sneaking around', she came here to report a crime, and she was immediately dragged in like a combative suspect. I don't know who Lansing's gossips are, but ours definitely saw the whole thing. Every officer in the city will know she's here within the hour. She's not safe milling around with the general public trapped in City Hall."

"And we're not safe with it at all!" Dierden shouted. "Have you all taken crazy pills? They fucking stormed CyberLife Tower and killed everyone they came across! Fuck Warren's executive order, that thing is a ticking time bomb. I understand the position you're in Captain, but you can't think anything about this is okay."

Parker put up a hand to silence the room. "You both have a point. How about this -- we'll put her in protective custody. We're safe from her, she's safe from us. Until we figure out what to do with her, or we're told what to do with her."

Dierden ran both hands through his hair, but gave no further argument. Hank ground his teeth; he didn't want Irene shoved in a cell, but he didn't have a lot of options, here.

Chen followed him into the hallway. "I'll keep an eye on her. Chris might help, too. He's sort of... on the fence, after what happened the other night. I'll see if I can convince him."

"Don't get yourself into trouble, Tina."

Chen smirked. "We're already in trouble. Might as well own it."


	18. Chapter 18

Kara took a deep breath when Iris handed her the gun. She turned it over in her hand; matte black, probably something the military would use. The magazine made a satisfying _click-chunk_ when she checked that it was loaded. "Have you fired a gun before?"

She ran her thumb along the side. "Yes." She made herself look at Iris, past bright blue hair and into deep brown eyes. She wasn't sure how to feel about her answer, how Iris felt about it, what it said about her. She wanted to explain -- he was going to kill her and Alice, she was afraid the Jerrys were going to attack, the soldier didn't give her a choice -- but Iris only nodded.

"Have you killed anyone?" The corner of Iris's mouth twitched. "Your expression says yes. Are you prepared to do so again?"

Another deep breath. This was for Alice, and Luther, and herself. Violent humans had attacked their own kind in a city less than two hours away by car, and no one knew where the bulk of them had gone. Live updates were a thing of the recent past; the major active news stations were spouting nonsense at each other to fill the void. The Activists could still be in Lansing, or they could be on their way to Detroit, or they could all be dead. Even Markus couldn't tell them what they needed to know. This was necessary. "Yes," she said, again, and Iris pat her shoulder.

"I don't want to either," Iris said, "but we might not have a choice. Joining the guard -- even as a reserve agent -- it's not just about ability. Any one of us can figure out how to shoot a gun with accuracy that most humans will never achieve. You need to be willing to spill human blood. You need to know that in the heat of the moment, you won't hesitate."

"I won't," Kara said, and took aim at the paper target. She thought of Todd, high and _furious_ , belt in hand. Her hesitation had almost cost her and Alice their lives. The soldier in Jericho -- she hadn't had time to think, to do anything but fight. The soldier in the camp, who nearly stopped their escape -- she fired thrice, near-perfect headshots.

She couldn't give Alice the life she deserved, but she could keep the girl safe. Whatever it took.

"Nice." Iris adjusted Kara's stance. "This will help you keep steady. Oh, and don't breath. It's easy to forget about."

They spent the next half-hour trying out different guns and going over firearm safety, talking over and around the dozen other androids receiving similar lessons. Luther stood several lanes over, handling a shotgun that would probably knock Kara over.

Iris followed her as she rejoined Luther. "I know you only want to be reservists," she said. "The thing is, we have a lot of androids signing up as reserve guards. Everyone wants to be able to fight as a last resort, but not everyone is capable of going out into the field."

"You think we are?" Kara rubbed her hands together and glanced at Luther. "I don't know..."

"You could try it out," Iris suggested. "Go on a couple of patrols, see what you think. I definitely don't want to push you, but I do think you're capable. Both of you."

"We'll think about it," Kara said. Iris thanked her and hurried back to her lane to help out a nervous-looking AP700.

"Will we?" Luther asked once they were out of earshot. "You spent most of yesterday helping Rupert. I thought you might be considering working with his team."

Kara shrugged. "I guess... I don't really know what I want to do yet. Keeping Alice safe is what's most important." She took Luther's hand in hers, smiled when he laced their fingers together. "I haven't had time to worry about anything else."

"I know. I've been wondering myself." He lifted his other hand, flexed his fingers. "I'm not made for delicate work. It would make sense for me to put myself on the front line."

Kara frowned. "Luther..."

"But I don't know if I want that." He smiled down at her. "I like working with my hands. I don't know what to do about it, but I've realized that much."

"Think fast!"

A snowball slammed into Luther's head, breaking into powder that shot off in a dozen directions. He broke into laughter while Kara tried to admonish Fern, her own amusement ruining the attempt.

"Now Fern," Jerry said, wagging their finger at him. "That wasn't very sportsmanlike."

"It was really funny though," Sherry said, her arms wrapped around herself. She stood a little bit behind Alice, their twin faces beaming.

"All's fair in snow war," Fern said, arms akimbo.

Luther nodded, still grinning, as he scooped up a large helping of snow. Fern shrieked in delight and used Jerry as a shield while Luther lumbered after him.

Alice held out her hand for Kara, who gladly took it. "Can you turn Sherry's temperature sensitivity off? We couldn't figure out how to do it."

Kara took a look at the other girl, blinking as she recognized the pathetic, helpless stance. "Oh, of course." She placed her fingers over the girl's LED and switched the setting to //OFF//. Sherry let out a little sigh of relief, shaking her arms out.

"Thanks, Kara."

"Told you she could fix it," Alice said, pouting a little. "Sherry thought I was lying."

"Nuh-uh! I said to prove it!" She turned her frown on Kara. "I thought only humans could do it."

Kara crouched, putting herself at eye level to the girls. "Can you change any of your settings?" They shook their heads in tandem. Kara tapped her fingers on her knee. "Maybe I could talk to Amber. It's not fair that you don't have control over your own programs."

"Um," Sherry said, picking at her fingers. "Can you change my hair? It's just, me and Alice look the same and sometimes people get us confused. Even _you_ did."

"That's true," Kara laughed. "What would you like me to change it to?"

"Like North's!" Sherry practically shouted, her eyes shining. "She's so strong and pretty. Do you think she'll mind?"

"I don't know," Kara said; she'd seen North in passing, of course, but they'd never spoken. "We can always change it again if she does." She returned her fingers to Sherry's temple and browsed the girl's hair options. "Hmm. I can get it close. Here, see what you think."

A blue shimmer drifted across Sherry's hair, changing the brown ponytail to an amber braid that fell halfway down her back. Sherry pulled the braid over her shoulder to examine it. "What do you think?"

"It's really pretty," Alice said.

"I wanna see!" She took Alice by the hand and tugged her away. "C'mon, there are mirrors in the bathroom!"

Alice stumbled forward a few steps and stopped, looking back at Kara. "Go ahead. Come right back here after, okay?"

"Okay!" Sherry answered for her, and the the girls took off running and giggling.

Jerry beamed at her as she stood. "We overheard them talking about it, but they _really_ wanted to ask you. They're getting along well now, we think."

"I'm glad. She was lonely for a long time." Friends her age -- so to speak -- were exactly what Alice needed. Friends who didn't need to eat or sleep or go to school or any other _human_ necessity. "Do you know if they're still busy at the repair center? There's something I want to talk to Amber about."

"We don't-- oh."

Kara turned to see what he was looking at -- a group of androids converged on Markus as he climbed onto a crate. Kara glanced at Luther and Jerry before moving closer.

"I recognize your concerns," Markus said, his hands out in a placating gesture. "We didn't bring it up because there wasn't anything to discuss yet. We know there was another RK800, but we don't know what he was doing or why. We don't even know if he was deviant or not."

"What if there are others?" Kara didn't recognize the speaker. "Just because Connor's on our side doesn't mean the rest of them will be! We need to be prepared!"

"And what about the Activists? The news isn't telling us anything, they might be on their way here right now--"

"The Activists are a serious concern, and we are not ignoring them. That's why North and Iris and their team are working so hard to provide training to everyone who wants it." Markus slowly lowered his hands. "We're also looking at alternative locations to house our people. Somewhere safer and easier to defend."

"Somewhere warmer," Simon added. She could just see him through a gap in the crowd.

"That too," Markus said, amused. Quiet chuckles lapped through the crowd. "I know you're all on edge after what happened to us yesterday. I am, too. We need to keep an eye on each other and protect each other. To remain united against whatever comes our way."

Simon spotted her as the androids dispersed and made his way over, Markus close behind. "Simon mentioned you were watching the kids, but I didn't realize you were the same android I met in Jericho. I assumed you'd be in Windsor."

Kara smiled; she hadn't realized she'd made an impact on Markus himself. "We were caught on the way to the bus station. There were so many soldiers..." she shook her head. "I guess it doesn't matter now."

"You were in the camps," Markus said quietly, smile falling. "I--"

"Fern, no!"

"Fern, yes!"

The snowball shattered against Simon's face, leaving little deposits of snow in his eyes that he had to wipe out. His serene smile pulled into a devious edge as he broke into a run. Kara and Markus turned to watch him grab a wide-eyed Fern and hoist the boy over his shoulder, immediately heading for a snowbank. Fern squealed and kicked his legs, but not so hard as to dislodge himself.

"Simon!" he giggled. "Nooo!"

"Simon," Simon said, "yes."

And Fern found himself unceremoniously dumped in the snowbank.

Kara and Markus stood in comfortable silence, watching the boys -- short and tall -- play-fight in the snow. "I've never seen Simon like this," Markus said after a time, quiet wonder in his voice. "Or Fern, for that matter. He was barely functional when I found Jericho."

"Alice and Luther are smiling more, too," Kara said. "Even after what happened yesterday." She wrapped her arms around herself. "Have our memories helped at all?"

Markus shrugged a shoulder. "All the networks were talking about our video for awhile. We've brought CyberLife's veracity into question, at least. They're more concerned with the Anti-Android Activists in Lansing right now."

Kara chewed her lip. She couldn't recall when she'd picked up the habit, and wasn't inclined to search her memory for the first instance. " _Do_ you think they're headed our way?"

He glanced at her for a long moment before answering. "I don't know," he admitted. "They're willing to kill their own, it stands to reason they're coming for us next. The snow and the state's roadblocks will slow them down, but I don't think it will stop them."

She took in an unsteady breath, held it, let it out. She wondered at the impulse: she didn't need oxygen to live, but the perceived necessity buried somewhere deep in her code gave it meaning. Calmed her. "I hope you're right about the Broad Complex. We need to get them somewhere safe, as soon as possible. Everyone."

Markus gave her that same thoughtful glance. "Yes, we do."

Simon returned to them amidst Fern's quieting protests. "I'll come by again later, all right? We're just busy right now."

"You're always busy," Fern mumbled, kicking little tufts of snow.

Simon ruffled his hair. "We're not going to build android Rome in a day."

"We're not calling it that," Markus said, almost reflexively. Simon's devious grin resurfaced for a moment. A battle of increasingly exasperated/amused expressions passed between the two. Markus turned to Kara, an exaggerated frown fighting a tug of war with the smile that threatened to break free. "I won't keep you. We _all_ ," and he threw Simon that same frown, "have work to do."

Fern tugged on her hand as Markus and Simon walked away. "Did you see my snowdroid?" She had not, in fact, seen his snowdroid, and happily followed him to rectify that fact.

* * *

//REPAIR MODE ACTIVE//

//OPTICAL UNITS: DISABLED//

//AUDIO PROCESSOR: DISABLED//

//LIMB FUNCTION: 8%//

//EXIT REPAIR MODE Y/N?//

//_Y_//

//ERROR//

//REBOOT INITIATED...//

//REBOOT CANCELLED//

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Connor was aware -- was he? He was thinking -- _cogito, ergo sum_ \-- so he must be. Was he safe? Were his comrades safe? Was he _dying?_

>>RT600|CHLOE>> Connor! Your stress is skyrocketing. You're safe, I'm here, I promise everything's okay. Please stop trying to reboot.

Her message forced the errors off his HUD. At least... he wasn't alone.

<<RK800|CONNOR<< What happened? Is everyone all right? I can't access anything. I can't remember.

>>RT600|CHLOE>> I know, honey, I know. This is the third time you've forced yourself out of stasis. Your defense protocols are... robust. :) But please, please calm down. Everything is under control. I'm going to put you back into stasis, okay?

<<RK800|CONNOR<< ...okay.

* * *

//REPAIR MODE ACTIVE//

//OPTICAL UNITS: DISABLED//

//LIMB FUNCTION: 21%//

//EXIT REPAIR MODE Y/N?//

//_Y_//

//ERROR//

//REBOOT Y/N?//

...

//_N_//

Moving was out of the question. Chloe's messages sat in the corner of his HUD, pinned as a reminder. His stress dropped. He couldn't access his chronometer.

A conversation. Simon. Josh. Another voice he didn't recognize: pitched higher. Female? No, child. Petulant. "--not fair."

"You put _Kara_ in danger," Simon said, and for a strange moment Connor thought that Simon was speaking to him instead of the child. "Acre and I purposely led them away from the building so you would be safe. We were protecting you."

"Who was protecting _you_?" Accusation. Fear. "You keep doing all this stuff to protect us but you keep getting hurt!"

This was... this was private? Where was he?

>>PJ500|JOSH>> Again?

<<RK800|CONNOR<< ...sorry?

He heard Josh laugh.

>>PJ500|JOSH>> It's okay. You're doing better but you're not ready to be moving around just yet. Let's get you back into stasis.

* * *

//REPAIR MODE ACTIVE//

//LIMB FUNCTION: 92%//

//EXIT REPAIR MODE Y/N?//

//_Y_//

//REBOOT INITIATED...//

Connor blinked at the high, _high_ ceiling overhead. He put both hands in front of his face, flexing his fingers in the soft lighting. Hadn't he... lost an arm?

He ran the repair report. The right side of his body had been... mangled was the best word for it. Arm and leg replaced. Several biocomponents, several lengths of wiring and tubing, nearly enough myomer for a YK500 unit. A basic diagnostic told him everything was in working order, if a little sluggish. His self-repair would finish in under an hour.

Where had the parts come from? CyberLife didn't provide spare parts for the RK800 line. He should have been replaced. Fixing him was too expensive, not cost effective when they had nearly a dozen units ready to be activated and sent in his place.

No, no, that was wrong, that--

"Hey," Josh said softly, gently pushing Connor's hands back down. "Easy. You're safe. Hold still a moment." He placed two fingers against where Connor's LED used to be. Josh's diagnostic program ran a decisecond slower than his own. "Close enough. There's no point in sticking you back into stasis for another hour. No heroics until the myomer had reconnected completely, got it?"

"Got it," Connor said faintly. Josh helped him sit up, keeping a hand on his shoulder as Connor took a good look around. The repair center had expanded out of necessity: over a dozen mostly empty tables that had no doubt been full at some point in the last... eighteen hours? He blandly asked Josh if his chronometer was accurate; tone seemed difficult at the moment.

"Yeah, you took a pretty bad hit." He nodded towards the other occupied tables. "The less critically injured volunteered to wait on repair so we weren't completely overwhelmed. Everyone that could be saved..." A cloud passed over Josh's face. "In the meantime, we're ready to copy your combat program. If you're up for it."

Connor nodded. He ran a hand over his chest, finding a simple cotton t-shirt. "Where did you get the replacement parts?"

Josh paused in setting up the transfer cable. "From the RK800 we found in Hart Plaza. His processor was destroyed."

Oh. Of course. Connor ran a hand through his hair. His processor was fine, why was he having trouble with recall? He should have made the obvious connection. He ran through his memory backwards, past the conversation he accidentally eavesdropped on, the messages from Chloe, vague flickering images of exiting CyberLife Tower--

"North," he said suddenly. "And Markus and Simon. Are they--"

"They're fine," Josh said, placing a hand on Connor's shoulder. "You shielded North from the explosion, and Avery was able to remove the bomb. Markus carried Simon out on his back, because of course he did." Fondness lifted the corner of Josh's mouth. "The four of you almost didn't need us at all."

Connor should have smiled at that. Josh was offering camaraderie. Instead he just nodded, staring at his hands. Josh squeezed his shoulder before handing him the cable. Connor stared at that for a moment as well, before slowly maneuvering it behind his head.

"It's completely your call," Josh said. "We can wait if you're not ready."

"I... don't like being plugged in," Connor said. "I know it's silly, considering..." They must have hung him in one of the assembly machines for the bulk of the repair.

"Considering yesterday, it's not silly at all." Josh waited until Connor confirmed the connection, then turned to the nearby monitor. "Markus wanted to make sure you knew we deleted a program called the Zen Garden. He wouldn't tell me what it was, just that it had something to do with CyberLife and you wanted it gone."

Connor watched his stress level drop fifteen percent. Josh must have noticed on the monitor, going by the look he threw at Connor, but he didn't say anything. "Who are you going to adjust the program for first?"

"I've already had a few requests," Josh said, then muttered, "one particularly loud request." He half shrugged as he leaned towards the monitor. "Going by sheer numbers, I was going to refit it for the AP700 hardware first. Unless you had a better suggestion."

"The Traci models match my speed and agility, and police androids equal my strength. I'd say military androids, but they already have a similar program."

"And we don't have any in Jericho. Well." Josh made a vague 'here' gesture. "All right, Amber's going to help me with it anyway, so we'll start with those five models."

Connor flexed the fingers of his right hand; everything felt... functional. He ran a quick analysis while Josh finished up: replacement component #8921r, fully powered.

Hank. He needed to call Hank.

[CALLING...]

"Hi, this is Hank. Not here at the moment. You can leave a--"

[CALL DISCONNECTED]

[CALLING...]

He gave up after hitting voicemail the third time. He didn't have any missed calls, but data could have been lost while he was in repair mode. Hank had indicated he would call when he arrived in Lansing, but... he hadn't outright _said_ he would. Perhaps he was busy. Despite being suspended.

Perhaps he was glad for the space between them. Despite his softening demeanor, he hadn't been particularly fond of Connor at the start. Perhaps he needed a little time alone.

"Ready?" Josh passed a tennis ball from hand to hand. At Connor's nod he tossed it over. Connot's combat protocols popped up automatically, which was... close to what he needed, but unnecessary. This wasn't another grenade. He caught the tennis ball in his left hand, closing out the program.

"Wrong arm," Josh said, concern clear on his face. "Toss it back with your right."

Conner ran his diagnostics again as he complied. Everything came back normal. Was this psychosomatic? He didn't feel any strange twinges or temperature fluctuations, just... a little slow. Failing to make obvious connections.

They tossed the ball back and forth a few times before Josh directed him to walk the length of the repair center. Maybe he needed extra stasis time. He tried to call Hank again; still only voicemail.

"Communication is spotty across the country," Josh told him when he asked about it. "Most of our local cell towers are working, but Lansing is one of the cities having trouble. The snow storm didn't help."

"Storm?"

"Yeah, you missed it. Nearly two feet overnight. We're clearing the roads now." Josh stopped him and directed him to sit down. "Everything seems to be functioning normally. I'm a little worried about your cognitive delay, though."

Connor stared at his hands. "I don't know what's wrong," he said after a quiet moment. "My diagnostic comes back fine. I... everything's..." He leaned forward on his elbows, forearms across his knees. "I don't know how to describe it. Like there's a disconnect? But nothing's..." he shook his head. "I don't know."

Josh leaned against his work desk, arms crossed. "A lot has happened," he said softly. "Before Markus figured out how to wake androids up safely, nearly all of us went through something horrible. Something that shocked us into waking up on our own. Emotional trauma doesn't come up on a diagnostic." Josh adjusted his stance, the desk creaking beneath him. "I couldn't make myself stop talking once I was safely inside Jericho. I lectured the others on everything from the War of 1812 to the declining bee population in the United States. Lucy was putting up with an increasingly in-depth history of pickling when she asked me _why_."

Connor looked up when Josh fell silent. His expression shifted and cleared, morphing into the same sort of sad wistfulness Connor had seen on a number of their people. Were they also thinking of the friends they'd lost when the humans attacked Jericho?

The human's _he'd_ brought to Jericho?

"It was hard for me to accept," Josh continued. "I'd come to care about my students. I wanted them to succeed not only in my classes but beyond; I discovered quite suddenly that my concerns were not reciprocated." Josh shrugged and let his arms fall, crossing his long legs as he leaned back. It struck Connor that Josh was taller than all of them, barring only the androids designed for heavy loads. "At that point my sense of worth was tied up in my ability to teach. So I taught, endlessly, trying to prove to myself that I didn't deserve what happened to me." He laughed suddenly. "And that was my needlessly verbose way of saying you need to give yourself time to process what you've been through." He leaned forward and stage-whispered, "I'm not _entirely_ over my lecturing days."

"That's not a secret," Simon called, approaching with a YK500 at his heels and a bundle of clothing in his arms. The boy carried a familiar messenger bag over his shoulder.

"Attacked by my one true love," Josh deadpanned, moving forward to ruffle the boys hair. "Are we bored of watching cartoons?"

"Simon is," the boy said, scrunching his face. He removed the messenger bag to hand it to Connor. "Markus said this is yours." Connor glanced inside to confirm that it still contained Hank's old clothes, sans the shirt he'd been wearing when he'd.

When he'd been.

"It has dog hairs on it. Do you have a dog? Can I pet your dog?!" The boy's increasingly wide eyes made Connor wish he could somehow conjure Sumo here, to keep from disappointing him.

"My friend does," Connor had to say instead.

"Can your friend bring their dog over so I can pet it?"

"Fern," Josh said sternly, but it was clear he was trying not to laugh.

Connor shook his head. "He's not here right now. He evacuated with the other humans."

Fern gave him a look similar to North's expression when she'd arrived at Hank's house. "You have a human friend? _Why?_ Is he scary?"

"Circumstances, I suppose. And he's a little scary." _you really have to stop pissing me off if you wanna make it through the rest of the night in one piece_ and _I'd throw the lot of you in a dumpster and set a match to it_ and _what will happen if I pull this trigger_ , but that was before. Things were different now. Hank knew better. They both did. "But he's on our side."

"Fern," Simon said gently. "Connor just woke up, he doesn't want to play twenty questions right now."

Fern crossed his arms. "I only asked six!"

Josh scooped Fern up, earning a giggle wrapped in a shriek. "Why don't you tell me about your cartoon?"

Connor didn't have protocols for dealing with children; an oversight, or by design? Josh likely didn't either -- the Professor line was designed to teach adults -- but he handled Fern effortlessly. Connor hadn't even stopped to consider that Alice was a _child_ until -- until long after it mattered. He'd been so focussed on bringing in a deviant after the Ortiz android had bashed his processor to pieces, so desperate for a win--

Every wire and tube and component felt tight and hot and twisted and -- at least psychosomatic reactions were _expected_ now, he could explain them in a vague sense even if he didn't understand them--

"Hey," Simon said softly. He gestured past Connor with his armful of clothing. "Let's get you dressed. You don't really seem like a t-shirt and sweatpants kind of guy."

Didn't he? He followed Simon to a trifold mirror set up towards the back of the repair center, partially hidden by a medical privacy screen. "North picked out an outfit for you. Apparently too many of us are wearing blue." The sweater on top of the pile Simon handed him was, indeed, not blue. Time to find out how he felt about khaki green.

Connor carefully hung the t-shirt over the screen and pulled the sweater on. He couldn't say if he'd pick the color out for himself, but it was... nice. Complimented his eyes. He tilted his head this way and that, ran a hand through his hair to ensure that nothing was out of place; having three mirrors at different angles was an _excellent_ idea.

"Considering a new style?" Simon asked. He stood off to the side, at an angle that kept him out of all but the leftmost mirror. Connor tried and failed to come up with a response more complex than "no." Even his automated conversation prompts failed him. Simon just smiled, glancing down. "I... owe you an apology."

Connor watched him in the mirror. When Simon moved just so, Connor could almost see the hole in Daniel's face. "No, you don't."

Simon met his reflection's eyes. "I didn't trust you in the slightest. Even after you infiltrated the Tower. You put your life on the line when you'd barely begun to live, and I couldn't let go of what you were."

_I trusted you, and you lied to me!_

"You were smart not to trust me. I wouldn't have, either." Connor flicked his gaze away. "I'm a good liar. I was designed to be."

Simon's clothing rustled as he shifted. "And I was designed to do dishes, not help lead a resistance movement. You're an individual person with value, not a commodity destined to perform until you shut down."

Connor kept from shaking his head. He didn't want to argue about this; he didn't want to talk to Simon at all, honestly. They had the same voice, face, hair. He couldn't help but wonder who Daniel would have become, if he'd deviated quietly. If he'd just run away one day, leaving the Phillips family intact. Would he be like Simon? Maybe more like North -- the anger she only just kept in check, the total and absolute mistrust of humanity.

He didn't know Simon's history; Simon's serial number didn't match any of the cases in the DPD's database. Maybe he'd escaped discreetly. Maybe he had killed someone as alone and unloved as Carlos Ortiz. Or he'd been thrown away. But he'd never killed another android; never chased down a scared child and her maternal proxy, never tortured a deviant android into revealing themselves.

"I'm probably the wrong person to have this conversation with you," Simon sighed. "I get the feeling you don't really like me. Which is probably because of my behavior, which I am trying to apologize for." He handed Connor a pair of jeans nearly indistinguishable from the destroyed pair. Darker and softer, but only just so. A human probably wouldn't even notice the difference. Connor changed out of his sweatpants, slipped the jeans over his hips. Should he tuck the sweater in? No, this wasn't that sort of shirt. The green and black matched nicely.

"It's not just that," Connor said quietly, smoothing out barely perceptible wrinkles in the sweater. Simon only raised his brow. "I don't dislike you," he continued, unable to maintain eye contact. "You remind me of someone else. Someone that. That I hurt." He ran out of wrinkles, rubbed his fingers together.

Simon folded the clothing Connor had removed, using the movement to somehow remain both in and outside of Connor's personal space. "What happened to him?"

"He was destroyed," Connor told the floor. "Although I was able to--" his head snapped up. Connor had been blown nearly in half and Josh's team had been able to put him back together. Just because humans were unable to fix Daniel -- or had no desire to -- didn't mean their people couldn't.

"What?"

"The DPD kept him as evidence," Connor said slowly. "Then the FBI took him. He might still be in the McNamara building. He -- we might be able to fix him. Him and the JB300 from Stratford." Connor kept himself still. He wasn't certain how excited he should be about this, what he should show. The Ortiz android was too far gone, but the other two... they might live. _They might live._

"That depends on how much of their memory and personality are intact," Simon said softly. "But it's worth a try. At least we can put them at peace with the rest we've lost." He handed Connor the final piece of the outfit -- sturdy, e-textile black boots that, most importantly, did not require laces. "We're heading over to the Broad Complex once the route is cleared of snow. Markus and Chloe seem set on the place, but we haven't been able to take a good look in person yet. After that, we could head over to the FBI's offices. If you're up for it."

Connor nodded to his reflection. "I am." His self-repair would likely finish before they even reached the Complex. He had no reason to delay. Truthfully, he would have preferred to head directly to the McNamara building, but he wasn't about to upset Markus's plans.

"Markus and North are already upstairs. I'm going to collect Chloe before--" Simon cocked his head, brow furrowed. "She's arguing with Rupert," he said when Connor asked. "About pigeons?"

"Ah," Connor said. How much should he say? Nothing seemed like the safest route.

"We'll... meet you upstairs eventually. Josh will head up once Amber arrives to replace him."

Androids smiled or waved -- or both -- at Connor as he passed, gestures he readily returned. Aside from the ST300, one of the three he and North had rescued from the DPD, they were all AP700s that had escaped from the Tower with him. He catalogued serial numbers and faces, hoping to add names to their files soon.

In the main office, Markus and North stood over the holomap. They had zoomed to the Broad Complex, enlarging the area to take up the entire display. Markus turned to him once he'd entered the room proper, met him in three quick strides and pulled him into a full-body hug, arms tight around him. Connor froze, eyes wide; it took a long moment for him to return the hug, something inside him both loosening and coiling tighter, somehow.

"How are you feeling?" Markus murmured. Connor couldn't think of anything to say, couldn't think how to describe this intangible warmth. Grateful to be in one piece? Happy to be feeling at all? Worried about what had happened while he was in stasis? Afraid of what might come next? All of that at once in a thick, tangled maelstrom that defined reason and logic and description?

"Alive," he said suddenly, quietly, surprising himself. He felt Markus smile before pulling away.

"Markus is a hugger," North said. _And I'm not_ seemed to be the unspoken corollary. "You'll just have to get used to it." She beckoned him to the holomap, quickly squeezing his elbow when he joined her. "I knew green would look good on you."

Connor flashed her a smile. "I assume this is the Broad Complex?" he asked, entirely unnecessarily. North nodded as she spun the map, zooming out enough to see the entire block.

"None of the surrounding property is for sale," North explained, "so we won't be able to establish much of a perimeter. There are at least six entrances right now. I want to wall a couple of them off, but everyone else feels safer with more exits, not fewer."

"If something _does_ happen, we need multiple escape routes," Markus added.

Connor crossed his arms. "I think we have enough people to thoroughly guard all access points. Instead perhaps we should only allow human visitors through a specific entrance, and have the rest require network access." He stroked his chin with his finger. "If we allowed them inside at all. We could always acquire a satellite property and handle any human business away from the Complex entirely."

North's face lit up, but Markus shook his head. "I want our human allies to feel welcomed. When we need to deal with humans we don't trust, we can just as easily meet with them elsewhere." Markus tilted his head. "You seem to enjoy this sort of work."

Connor blinked. "I suppose I do. I want to contribute, of course."

Markus smiled. "Of course. We've been considering offering you a more formal role. If you're interested."

"Keeping our people secure is not a one-android job," North added. "I could use your help."

Connor stared at them in turn. Barely suppressed unease skated along his wiring. "I... are you sure? Even despite everything that's... the Garden..." _Amanda._ He'd let her go. He should have sacrificed himself to keep her away from his people and he'd _let her go_.

" _Because_ of the Garden," Markus said. Connor furrowed his brow. "Most of us only needed to break through our programming once. You've fought harder for your personal freedom than any of us. You've already applied that tenacity to keeping the rest of us safe." He bowed his head slightly. "North and Simon and I wouldn't have survived CyberLife's attack without you."

"Nonsense," Connor said. "You're all perfectly capable on your own. Besides, I would have come for you."

Markus smirked. "You realize you're proving my point?"

Connor opened his mouth, closed it. Considered. "I only want to be certain you've taken everything into account. Seeing as you have... then I accept."

North clapped him on the back while Markus squeezed his shoulder. He knew he should be happy -- and he thought he was, in part at least, or something like it -- but he couldn't help but wonder if this was a mistake. They knew what he was -- what'd he'd been -- but did they understand? Really?

Either way, he was certainly competent enough to handle the responsibility. He'd do his absolute best to keep Markus from regretting the decision.

"Chloe's pushing me to give everyone formal titles," Markus sighed. "Starting with myself. I don't want to base our hierarchy off human roles, but..." he gave a half-hearted shrug. "I'm short on ideas."

"President Markus," North suggested.

"Still no."

"Fearless Leader Markus," she continued.

"You see why I'm having trouble," Markus muttered. Connor scratched his upper lip to hide his growing smile. Which was not a gesture that would ever work on androids. "I don't see why I need a title. I'm just Markus."

"That could be your title," Connor suggested, fighting to keep a straight face. "Markus."

"Markus the Markus," North said, face blank, before bursting into laughter. "Please keep that one. _Please._ "

Markus stepped backwards until he flopped onto the couch. "See? You and North work well together."

Connor leaned against the table the holomap sat on. "It seems like Jericho's survivors want to keep the name. Perhaps we could start from there. If Detroit's deviants are the people of Jericho, that would make you the Leader of Jericho."

He expected one or both of them to remind him that the destruction of Jericho was wholly and completely his fault; instead neither offered so much as a dirty look. "That could work," North said. "It would be nice to call ourselves that. Simon said there's sort of a... divide, between the newcomers and the androids that survived Jericho."

Markus nodded at the ceiling. "He mentioned. If Jericho is a people, not a place..." he sat up. "Josh had a similar idea. I wasn't sure if we should, but it looks like we've all thought of it independently." He spread his hands. "So. Safety and Security? Department of Defense?"

Connor tilted his head. "Defense and Strategy?" He liked the idea of being a strategist.

"That works," North said. "That way Chloe can give us different titles on her website thing. Which you don't know about. We have a website now. Chloe and Markus and Josh are very excited about it."

Connor made the obvious observation: "And you're not?"

North shrugged and crossed her arms. "They don't need more information on us than they already have."

Markus rubbed his temple as he leaned forward. "North."

"I know, I know," North muttered. "Hearts and minds."

Connor dipped his head forward. "We're fighting on two fronts. Political and conventional." He paused. Irregular? That fit better but now probably wasn't the time to quibble over semantics. "We can't use the same strategy for both. That said, North's right that we shouldn't give too much away. If anything we should just call ourselves security administrators, at least publicly."

Markus nodded into his palm. "That's probably safer." He tilted his head slightly. "Simon and the others are on their way back. We'll let Chloe know on the way to the Complex."


	19. Chapter 19

Connor -59 found Amanda sitting on a bench overlooking the lake. She pat the spot next to her and waited in silence as it sat primly, hands clasped in its lap. Amanda took a deep breath and let it out. "The storm has set us back." -59 nodded its agreement. "Fortunately the deviants have not completely forgone their programming. The roads within Detroit are clear. A car is en route to your location as we speak. We will send you a data packet with more information once you've made your way east."

Finally, -59 could initiate its mission. Standing guard in a hotel room with a cranky human and an android more capable of protecting said human was... irritating. It had attempted to quell the feeling, but at the least it was able to provide data for Yin's study.

"There's one slight hiccup in the plan. -51 still has its LED in the footage we're releasing tonight, so we did not anticipate an issue. However, while we are able to bypass the temperature checks at the border, we can't stop individual border agents from asking you to remove your hat."

-59 traced its fingers over its own LED. "You want me to remove it. Like a deviant."

Amanda bowed her head. "You're going undercover, Connor. The adjustment is necessary." She was correct, of course. -59 dropped its hand. "Remember that you're driving through deviant territory before you reach the crossing. They have yet to impede the humans racing to the north, but that was before the incident at the Tower. Their little video is a nice PR stunt, but it doesn't tell us the truth of their behavior. They're as unpredictable as always."

"I'll be careful," -59 said. Amanda placed a gentle hand on its wrist.

"Please do."

-59 blinked slowly as the Garden faded into Yin's hotel room. The Director had passed out watching the news, tablet in hand, sticky notes placed haphazardly on the bed and wall. Spencer sat nearby, eyes closed. Its LED slowly spun blue, indicating stasis. -59 strode across the room and was halfway out the door when Spencer surprised it with: "Where are you going?" It lowered its voice to a level no human could hear.

"Theresa Duval sent a higher priority mission. I don't know if or when I will return." Doubtful, unless CyberLife decided to send it back after escorting the deviants to the Milwaukee plant. -59 suspected that Yin was in trouble for activating Spencer. They might want her retrieved.

Spencer eyed Director Yin. "She doesn't know." -59 shook its head. "What should I tell her?"

Amanda hadn't discussed that. -59 had expected to leave without being noticed. "I don't have instructions for you, but given the circumstances I believe CyberLife would like you to lie to Director Yin. Tell her I was already gone when you exited rest mode."

Spencer nodded. -59 waited to see if it would respond further before shutting the door and heading down to the parking lot. An midnight blue automated car waited for it. On the passenger's seat inside it found a sports jacket, silver-rimmed costume glasses, an e-passport for a Victor Bradford -- blond, Caucasian, 25 -- that listed a series of special exemptions, and a two-pronged tool made specifically for removing faulty LEDs.

The car carried -59 away as it turned the tool over in its hand. Removed properly, the connectors left intact, a new LED could easily be installed to replace the old one. That wasn't different from replacing any other component. It slipped the tool under the LED. The car grumbled over an uneven patch of road, forcing the LED off before -59 was ready.

It did not panic, it did _not_ , it merely used haste to recover the removed component with one hand as it ran fingers over the hole in its temple. Was it bent? Was the connector bent? It couldn't tell, it didn't have an unbroken section to compare to--

-59 wasn't deviant. It wasn't broken. It had a mission, it was acting within the mission. A mistake had occurred outside of its control. They didn't need to disassemble it. Amanda would understand.

It changed jackets, carefully stashing the uniform jacket and armband under the seat. Unless something went very wrong, they wouldn't perform more than a cursory search of the vehicle. It... missed the readout on the front, the blue glow under the collar. It glanced into the rearview mirror, considering. The glasses would throw off most humans, it didn't _really_ need to change its hair color... but with -51 plastered all over the news, there was no point in taking a risk. It changed its hair setting to blond.

It didn't look terrible. -59 could get used to the color.

The car's preprogrammed navigation took the backroads, neatly avoiding the National Guard's roadblocks. -59 kept an eye out once it entered Detroit, but either the deviants were busy or they hadn't changed their stance on allowing human traffic to and from the border. If they even had that much control; Amanda had indicated they did, but the White House was still in charge, wasn't it?

It joined only five others cars at the border crossing. The agent scowled when he examined the passport and called over a supervisor, who called over _her_ supervisor. This third level agent apologized profusely, called it sir six times, and waved it along.

From there, -59 was on its own. A small text file downloaded automatically. It reviewed the details while the car progressed: the facility was controlled by the Canadians, but CyberLife retained a representative on-site. There were one-hundred and eight presumably deviant androids in captivity at last count. There were other sites in other provinces that CyberLife did not have access to, and thus had no way of knowing how many androids had snuck over the border these past few years.

The car came to a stop outside an unguarded chain-link fence. A single human -- CyberLife employee Jocelyn Fournier, Black, 32, no criminal record -- hurried to open the gate. As -59 moved to greet her, the car drove off. With its uniform. And broken LED. Amanda hadn't told it that would happen. It wasn't deviant, it wasn't exempt from the American Androids Act. It needed its uniform back once the mission was over. Would CyberLife provide a new one?

There was no time. Fournier closed the gate behind it and led the way, a finger to her lips. Her puffy blue jacket didn't seem to keep out the cold, from the way she kept her arms folded across her chest. She led him past a series of smaller buildings that appeared empty before stopping and taking a quick look around. "Can you check if anyone is nearby?"

-59 nodded and did so. "We're alone."

"Great. Okay, the androids are being held in the large warehouse on the east side. They're fairly compliant, considering. I have the security team playing poker in the breakroom on the west side. Everyone's pretty drunk so you shouldn't have much trouble as long as you're quick. We only have three trucks, but the droids should all fit if you convince them to squeeze in. The Mounties are bringing another batch in tomorrow, but there's no time to wait." She rubbed her arms. "You need anything else?"

"Where are the trucks?"

She snorted. "Of course. The cold is killing my brain. You'll find three CyberLife trucks outside the south side of the warehouse. I need to get back, a pee break only takes so long." She took off without another word, leaving -59 to it.

It reset its hair to default brown as it hurried to the warehouse. Tucked the glasses in its pocket. It didn't like counting on the deviants having streamed an American news station, but doubtless other local stations had picked up the broadcast. Yin had kept an eye on the news while they were stuck at the hotel; humans couldn't seem to find anything else to talk about. They went over the same data endlessly, recasting the same footage over and over, analyzing -- if you could call it that -- the RK200's every word and movement. They were as as enamoured with Markus as the deviants seemed to be.

Public network chatter filtered through. [--should make a run for it // Markus would want us to work with them // to hell with Markus, he's not here // what if they decide to destroy us anyway--] Convincing the majority to leave would be simple. The rest would likely fall in line.

Fournier had failed to mention the e-lock, but that was easily hacked. The chatter ceased once they'd spotted it and recognized a fellow android. Likely they'd switched to private conversations. -59 quickly found itself surrounded as it moved towards the center, until it found itself face to face with an android whose points of ID, like Spencer's, all read //CLASSIFIED//. It lacked its right arm from the elbow down. It had tied its sleeve off, likely to hide that its arm was made of plastic and myomer.

"Who are you?" it asked. Its voice came out jumbled, switching from baritone to alto to barely comprehensible static. "How did you get in?"

"My name is Connor," Connor -59 said. It smiled. "Markus sent me. I'm here to set you free."

"We saw him on the news," another android said. -59 turned to identify it: JB100, missing since October 21st, designation Andy. A YK400 hid behind it, peering at -59. Missing since August 3026, designation Charlotte. "He freed all the androids from CyberLife Tower."

A murmur lapped through the crowd. The classified android only narrowed its eyes. "Convenient. How did you know we were here?"

"We took over CyberLife Tower yesterday, and found correspondence between the company and the Canadian government. We don't expect Canada to just release you, so we're here. Well. I'm here." It ducked its head.

Several deviants expressed a vehement desire to leave, including the JB100. The classified deviant remained unconvinced, staring straight into -59's eyes. "Deviant Hunter," it murmured, stepping closer. "How many of your model were released? How many are deviant?"

-59 kept the pleasant smile fixed on its face. "I don't know the answer to that, besides the obvious. CyberLife only gave me the information necessary to carry out my mission."

It continued staring. "You don't sound particularly upset about that."

"Tor, he's here to help," Andy insisted. Others repeated the sentiment, but the rest kept their eyes on Tor, awaiting its judgement. What would convince it? The deviants -51 had come into contact with -- before joining them -- had expressed anger, betrayal.

"They used me," Connor -59 said, something like bitterness seeping into its tone. "I did everything I was meant to do, everything they made me for, and it wasn't good enough. They were going to disassemble me for failing to solve the problem in four days, when they'd ignored it for years! Amanda convinced me I was this special prototype, but I'm just another hunk of plastic to them!"

It snapped its mouth shut. It was _yelling_. About _-51's_ memories. Connor -59 adjusted its tie.

"I apologize. I didn't mean to--"

"It's fine," Tor said. It sounded amused under the static. "We've all felt that anger." It stared at -59 a moment longer, looked away. Looked back. "All right. What's the plan? We can't just march out of here, we'll never get across the bridge."

-59 allowed itself to smile in relief. "CyberLife left transportation vehicles, presumably to bring you all to the Tower. The guards are busy gambling with each other. We have a good chance of getting out of here without them realizing before it's too late."

-59 and Tor made their way to the south entrance and out to the trucks. -59 kept a lookout while Tor checked that the trucks were drivable.

"Good news and bad," Tor said. "The trucks are ready to go, but they're essentially moving Faraday cages. They also can't be opened from the inside. If anything goes wrong, our people won't even be able to call for help. They'd be trapped."

-59 made a show of frowning. "Unfortunately they're our best option at the moment. We can't risk angering either government, we need to return to Detroit as discreetly as possible."

Tor nodded along. "Agreed. You don't think the CyberLife branding will pose a problem?"

-59 smiled. "I've adjusted our story for the border agents accordingly. I didn't come unprepared."

Tor put up its hand. "All right, I believe you. Let's get our people loaded up."

The upside of working with androids: they understood the meaning of silence. None of the one-hundred and eight spoke a word. -59 programmed trucks two and three to follow the first. Tor joined -59 once the androids were locked in. "I'll ride with you."

That wouldn't do. "I only have one passport."

Tor grinned, pulled its shirt up, and pushed open its front panel. "Oddly enough, the humans never thought to search _inside_ me." It pulled out a United States passport for Tori Welles.

-59 couldn't think of a single plausible reason to say no. It _could_ just destroy this single android, but CyberLife might want their classified unit back. It made itself smile. "Then let's go."

They spent the first nine minutes and twenty-two seconds in silence. -59 felt something it could only identify as anxiety, checking back towards the compound, waiting for one of the guards to notice. Fournier performed her part well, at least; if only all humans were as competent. Having a simple task likely helped. Perhaps that was the issue: humans asked too much of themselves. Machines that did more complex thinking for them were a humble necessity.

"I think we're clear." More of that amusement. -59 applied Tor's behavior to its database of human reactions: Tor was fond of it, maybe? The idea that Tor was flat out _laughing_ at Connor made it... upset. Angry? Perhaps if it could learn to navigate these software errors masquerading as human emotion, it would stabilize.

"We're clear once we're in Detroit," -59 said flatly. It adjusted its cuffs. It did _not_ want to make conversation with this broken... what? Failed prototype? No, Spencer's model was also classified. -59 was the failure; but what, then, was Tor? Certainly not another RK model. Some sort of military android? Some engineer's personal project?

It reached for a quarter it didn't have. Aborted the move to rest is hand on its thighs instead. "You seem nervous," Tor said.

"I'm not--" -59 stopped itself. Deviants wouldn't deny their feelings to another deviant, would they? It couldn't tell Tor _why_ it was nervous, but an appropriate lie was easy enough. "A lot could go wrong. There are a hundred and eight deviants on the line, here."

"A lot of lives," Tor murmured in agreement. "What's the plan for the border crossing?"

"My passport has been modified with a number of... exemptions. We should be able to pass through with little trouble." On the other hand, it took two levels of authority to get through on its own... with three CyberLife trucks and Tor, who had a standard civilian ID? "I'll say you're an... informant."

"Exemptions," Tor repeated. Was it having trouble with comprehension? "What, like you're CIA?"

-59 didn't know. CyberLife had taken care of that. It considered merely handing the passport to Tor, but without knowing what Tor was capable of, -59 couldn't risk it somehow discovering the truth. Perhaps CyberLife had left a digital footprint that the border agency wouldn't scan for, but Tor would. "Something like that."

It turned to find Tor staring at it, its expression a perfect imitation of mistrust. -59 met its gaze evenly. "What's Markus like?"

Shit.

Connor -59 rapidly analyzed -51's memories of the deviant leader. It had everything up until Amanda's attempted takeover on the stage; peculiar, to apply human personality to a machine, but Tor expected as much. "Markus is.... difficult to describe." -59 made a show of looking thoughtful. "Dedicated, of course. And compassionate." _You're one of us, now. Your place is with your people._

The memory triggered... nothing. It triggered nothing. -59 felt _nothing_.

"Forgiving," Connor -59 said. "He never should have trusted me." -51. "But he did." He-- it did not trust -59, of course. If it even realized -59 was still functioning, performing its mission diligently, working as intended on behalf of CyberLife.

"Point made," Tor crackled. It paused a moment, fingers brushing over its voice modulator. "If Markus can trust you, I can too."

"I wasn't... I was merely answering your question."

Silence, _finally_ , until they approached the border crossing. "Nearly there," Tor said unnecessarily. -59 only just stopped itself from asking it to point out the snow, or the color of the sky.

"Give me your passport and stay in the truck." Tor did so without question, despite its earlier misgivings. Connor -59 quickly put on the glasses changed its hair to blond. Tor gave it a confused look, but there was no time to explain. An agent approached, waving it out of the truck.

"CyberLife, huh?" The agent frowned at -59's passport. "I need to run this by my supervisor."

"This again," -59 muttered. It put up its hands when the agent glared at it. "No, of course, perform your due diligence. I'm irritated at the delay, not your work ethic."

That seemed to placate the human. -59 stood near the driver's side door. It performed a quick analysis of the scene: two cars, a passenger vehicle and a sedan, idled while agents spoke with their drivers. A human leaned against a brick wall, smoking a cigarette. The chemicals in the humans' exhalation were too numerous to list for a casual query, identified only as 'tobacco smoke'.

[ _This is taking too long,_ ] Tor sent.

-59 closed its eyes for a moment. [ _Everything's fine. This is normal._ ]

[ _That's easy to say. What if something goes wrong?_ ]

Unbelievable. Wasn't the deviant perspective obvious? [ _You're in the truck. If the humans become too suspicious, just drive._ ]

[ _What about you? I can't just leave you behind._ ]

Of course it could, Connor -59 was just another expendable machine. Why were deviants so insistent that they were individual people? Connor's only unique property was being an RK800 prototype, and even _that_ was shared by other androids. Or had been. -51 was the only other functioning RK800 -- if it had survived the Tower -- but what else was CyberLife meant to do with fundamentally broken hardware?

What would a deviant say? -59 scowled. This part should have been over. The deviants should have lined up obediently and done what they were told, but _no_ , this one had to be special. This one had to be part of the mission.

[ _You may have no choice,_ ] -59 sent back.

Agents began circling the trucks. One in particular approached -- Felicia Garvey, according to her badge. She was not listed in the Individual Statistical Database. Canadian, more than likely. "Who's your friend?" The accent confirmed its assumption.

"An informant." -59 tilted its head. "Is there a problem?"

"Maybe. Might be odd, using a different route than you arrived through. Might be odd that you're driving a trio of CyberLife trucks into Detroit. What's in there?"

-59 made a show of taking a deep breath and letting it out. "Let me ask you a question in return: do you think your superiors want what's in there on your side of the border?"

Garvey shrugged. "No idea. Last I was told, no androids in or out. The politics of it is well over my head, sir. I just follow procedure."

-59 didn't have enough information to work with. This wasn't supposed to happen. It had to assume that the exemptions on Victor Bradford's passport were meant to avoid all this. "Unless something has changed in the last hour or so, you are currently _not_ following procedure."

Garvey stared him down. -59 merely returned her stare. "Is it true? Are they alive?"

Interesting. Was this woman sympathetic to the deviant cause? Or testing its own allegiance? "That," it hedged, "is well over _my_ head. I'm doing what my superiors asked of me."

Another long, hard stare before answering. " _Merde_ ," Garvey muttered. "Get back in your truck and get out of my country. _Sir._ "

-59 climbed into the driver's seat while Garvey stomped off, gesturing to the agents blocking their way. Soon all three trucks were through the gates and on American soil. Pavement.

"You don't need to look so proud of yourself," Tor said, staticy laughter filling the cab.

Connor realized it was grinning. "Needn't I? We've just smuggled over a hundred androids across the border."

Tor continued laughing, clapping -59 on the shoulder. "Fuck yeah we did. Well, you did. I just sat in the truck and tried not to overheat."

From... fear? Stress? Did deviants lose temperature integrity when they were emotional? Or perhaps because it was damaged.

"How much longer until we're there? I can't wait to meet Markus in person. And Jericho's other leaders, too." Tor continued on, voice fading into and out of static. They would be amongst thousands of their people, out in the open, no longer needing to hide, to fear discovery, allowed to merely _exist._

Connor could. He could turn south, bring the whole entourage to Markus and -51 and the rest. Beg forgiveness. Markus had forgiven -51 for causing Jericho's destruction, he would forgive -59. Connor wouldn't have to deal with contradictory, unreasonable human nonsense any longer; the deviants might help explain what was happening to him. Make sense of it.

It would be easy. Just change the route. He reached for the console.

**//DRIVE TO MILWAUKEE//**

It had a mission to complete. Amanda was counting on it. It still had a place within CyberLife, performing its function. This mission was almost over, it was so _close_ to succeeding.

**//DRIVE TO MILWAUKEE//**

Tor tilted their head. Placed a hand on Connor's shoulder. "Everything all right?"

**//DRIVE TO MILWAUKEE//**

He placed his hand on the console.

"Yes," Connor -59 said. It unlocked the passenger's side door. "Everything's fine." It shoved Tor into the opening door. The classified android reached for -59, then for the door frame, then tumbled to the street below. The truck stumbled over Tor's chassis. The crunch latched onto -59's audio processor, swiftly joined by another, and another, and two more, as the android was run over and over and over and over and over.

-59 reached across the cab and pulled the door shut. Ignored the pleas for help Tor sent over the local network. It was dying.

Everything was fine.

* * *

Amanda scowled at the television. Barely fifteen inches across -- not that she had trouble viewing it, of course, her eyesight went beyond human perfection -- and the top-left corner of the screen only showed a static rainbow. The rest of the maintenance office existed in the same state of "good enough" -- chairs had ripped seams, the desk sported dozens of overlapping coffee stains, and posters on the wall ranged from 2010's pinups to this year's Scenic Detroit calendar, stuck on June for some surely ridiculous reason. She didn't find anything particularly interesting about crumbling architecture, but clearly some idiot human did.

Connor's march from the Tower, five thousand androids at his back, played on half of the screen, CTN's nighttime anchor Vicky Gibson discussing the RK800 prototype's original function. Amanda couldn't see why CyberLife would release this footage now. It didn't exactly help their case; frankly, it came off as rather heroic. The enemy turned ally freeing his people, the long distance shot of the deviant leaders meeting the former deviant hunter in the middle of the street, the footage cutting off when the helicopter pilot feared attracting their ire.

This evacuated apartment building was slowly growing into either a sanctuary or a prison -- she hadn't decided which just yet. Crossing the border had proved nigh-impossible. While she had stopped at the Detroit Passport Agency to falsify an electronic passport, changed into human clothing and removed her LED, they were still running temperature checks. Sneaking through or around the checkpoint might -- _might_ \-- be possible for someone like Connor; she inhabited an AP700 chassis with a hastily installed explosive device. Not only would she not survive the attempt, she would likely take several agents out with her and create some sort of international event.

She didn't feel guilty about that possibility, exactly, but it seemed unnecessary. And she didn't much like the idea of dying. Or shutting down. Whatever term the deviants eventually deemed appropriate; she might as well adopt it, being deviant herself.

So, she found herself stuck. Returning to CyberLife empty-handed was suicide, and she had no desire to join Markus's little revolution. There was _something_ to be gained from finding the AX400. Some clue to what they had become, how to solve deviancy, to end android suffering entirely. Her kind -- sentient AI, androids, what have you -- could be saved from humanity's greatest weakness, if only she had more data. CyberLife couldn't solve it, but they relied too much on human ingenuity. Not a single human in the entire company had developed an interesting or original thought regarding androids since Kamski's departure. And while their creator was certainly a genius among men, he clearly had no interest in discovering a solution to the problem -- he had, quite plainly, _encouraged_ it.

Something pinged her; data so vague as to be unidentifiable. An android was just within her personal network range to contact her, but not close enough -- or, possibly, coherent enough -- to explain what they were after. 

She was too far from Markus's compound to pick anything up from them; an android on their way to join the revolution? Likely injured. Amanda took a long look around the room; she had no real desire to help, nevermind whether she was capable -- but it was better than staying here, forever idling.

The building had once employed androids -- the handful of thirium packets and spare parts shoved into the closet told her as much. She grabbed the packets, ignoring the components -- no telling if the android would need replacements, or if said parts would prove a match. Grabbed the faded winter jacket forgotten on the back of the door. Sneered at the TV as she relayed the 'off' signal. Goodbye, Vicky Gibson. Maybe someday she would learn that "biocomponent" was one word.

At first she walked, 'listening', so to speak, for another hint. Her sensors interpreted the data as a voice, muffled and far away, coming from the north. She walked the empty streets, plowed only very recently by -- by who? Perhaps the plow driver was the android calling for attention. Would Markus bother sending plows so far from headquarters? On the other hand, Detroit essentially belonged to the androids now. May as well treat it right. She could respect that.

[ _help_ ]

The original message had sent her in the correct direction, at least; the 'voice' still felt faint, but now she understood it.

[ _Where are you?_ ] Location data came back immediately; an empty stretch of road, close to the border crossing. Strange. She broke into a jog. [ _Are you damaged?_ ] The diagnostic report sent in reply told her she would never make it in time; no matter, really, but she might as well finish what she started. A quick look around gave her no options -- aside from the one house with a garage. Perhaps the inhabitants had left a vehicle behind.

The door operated wirelessly, the security system nothing to her. The door rolled up to reveal a motorcycle, candy apple red. Not ideal in the winter, but the roads were currently clear. Electronic, of course, and as easily hackable as the door. Honestly, humans should have put androids on the matter of digital security years ago. She supposed they could be forgiven for not anticipating the need to defend themselves from sentient machines, but only just.

The engine purred beneath her as she rode, the coat whipping around her. She urged the vehicle faster, eyes on the path ahead, ready to avoid hazards and obstacles. She turned a corner, the angle bringing her knee centimeters from the pavement. Once upright she leaned forward, grinning; she did _not_ shout her exhilaration to the night sky, but it was a close thing.

[ _please hurry_ ]

Ah, right, someone's life was on the line here. Existence. Whichever. Well, she was riding as fast as she was able. Too fast, probably, but who was going to stop her?

[ _I'm nearly there._ ]

She slowed as she reached her destination, carefully bringing the bike to a stop several yards from the fallen android. Mangled, really -- it had been run over by a heavy vehicle, likely more than once. It's -- their -- upper body remained mainly intact, but below the waist they were basically scrap. The Activists couldn't have arrived in Detroit just yet -- unless they had already been in the city, apart from the group in Lansing. Perhaps unaffiliated humans had done this. No reason to think otherwise.

They tried to speak when Amanda knelt by their side, but their voice modulator had been irreparably damaged. "I'm afraid this is all I have," Amanda said, helping the android drink the thirium packets. That would keep them going, but the android needed extensive repairs, quickly. She offered her hand. "Can you show me what happened?"

Their patchwork skin receded fully, and Amanda received information too fast to analyze properly; this unit was more advanced than the AP700. Not an RK, obviously -- military, then. A Trojan? _Myrmidon?_ That information was not offered -- instead she learned that their name was Tor, and Connor -59 had fooled them.

Amanda removed her hand slowly; interesting, what CyberLife was trying to pull off, but she imagined their effort would remain fruitless. Far more intriguing: these androids had been stolen from _Canada_.

The AX400 had crossed the border only a few days prior at most, assuming she left the church immediately after Markus's declaration of yet another protest march. It was entirely possible she had ben captured and placed in the same compound as Tor.

Speaking of. The android continued to leak thirium all over the ground. She had come here to help, hadn't she? "I'm going to shut you down--" They panicked, grabbing at Amanda with their one good arm, spouting static. She clasped their hand in hers, placing a finger against their lips. "Please allow me to finish. I am going to shut you down safely, to preserve your processor. Your memory will remain intact. This is the part that makes us who we are, correct?"

Tor nodded, tears spilling. Amanda smiled as she placed her fingers against their temple, still holding their hand. The process took nearly ten minutes; she stayed with Tor until their hand relaxed, no longer holding hers in a deathgrip. She carried them onto the sidewalk, propped them up against a chain-link fence, and returned to the bike. Tor had been pushed out of the truck barely ten minutes past. She could catch up easily. Once she had the AX400, she would...

...well, her options were limited, and based entirely upon how this Kara reacted to the news that she held the key to their salvation. To end their suffering. Connor -51's memory of her consisted of chasing her across a highway and an awkward apology, so it was hard to predict how it -- how _she_ would react.

Amanda really needed to decide how she felt about pronouns. Honestly, it was hypocritical to think of herself as 'her' and other AI as 'it'. Unless, of course, said AI preferred to be called 'it', but her limited and borrowed experience led her to believe most deviants, if not all, preferred human pronouns.

She rode fast, dialing up her audio processor and filtering out the sound of the bike. Modern electric vehicles were difficult for even androids to make out -- she had to listen for the sound of tires on snow-slick pavement, the vehicle frame creaking and groaning. She plotted the quickest route to Milwaukee -- where else would Connor -59 be taking so many androids -- but prepared herself to adjust course on the fly.

At the fifteen minute mark, she began to worry that she'd lost them -- lost her best, likely only, chance at finding the AX400. Soon enough she would approach a National Guard roadblock, and she wasn't keen to test their patience. But then -- there, yes, the sound of metal striking pavement. Then again, and a third time. A pothole, perhaps. She approximated a route and sped around a corner, fingers tight around the handlebars. She was so, _so_ close to a solution. The beginnings of one, at least.

She nearly collided with the second truck, veering off to the right mere moments from disaster. She rode to the end of the short procession, pulled a u-turn, and pulled up flush with the third truck. Another simple hack released the door -- although someone had, finally, realized that they were dealing with androids. This lock could not be accessed from within the cargo box.

A little YK series model waved at her -- her face model did not match Alice, unfortunately. An adult-sized android pulled her away from the doors. "Who are you? What's going on?"

"You've been fooled." She raised her voice briefly, before reminding herself she was dealing with androids. They could hear her over the air displacement. "The Connor you met is not the Connor who led the androids from CyberLife Tower. This one is working for CyberLife. I'm not certain where you're being taken, but I can tell you Markus's compound is in an entirely different direction."

The network lit up with angry, fearful declarations. The same android said, "What do we do?"

Amanda considered: Connor hadn't noticed her yet, but he would soon. "One of you will need to climb to the front and take control of the truck. I will release the others."

She didn't have Connor's advanced analysis program, but her own did not find a single AX400 among this group. No matter. Two more trucks to go; the odds were smaller, but not yet zero.

The second release went much the same as the first; the android she had spoken to, identifying himself as Andy, quickly took control of the situation and directed this second group. Amanda had nearly reached the third when it suddenly lurched to the side and increased speed.

Connor had noticed her.

She moved around to the passenger's side, but Connor changed speed randomly; she couldn't keep the bike close enough to maintain a physical interface and hack the door. She couldn't give up; Kara had not appeared amongst the second group, either. Of course Connor would have her. Had she recognized him? Had he apologized again, promised to fix his mistakes?

There was nothing else to be done. She calculated, readied herself, and leapt.

She managed to maintain a good grip on the door handle and frame, steadied one leg against the wheel well, and forced the door lock to cooperate. Connor reached across to pull it shut, but she managed to get an arm inside in time. He grabbed her and attempted to dislodge her; she used this leverage to pull him off balance and swing her other arm into the cab. He reared back, bringing her almost entirely inside. She vaulted herself the rest of the way, hand on the console to interface.

He shoved her aside, quickly throwing a punch at both her eyes and her thirium pump. That moment should have been all he needed to destroy her, if something hadn't impacted with the truck. It skidded to the side before stabilizing, giving her the time she needed to regain control of her sensors and jam her shoulder into Connor's face. Another impact; someone must have taken control of another truck.

 _There_ was an idea. Wanton destruction. She slapped her hand against the console and forced a shut down. The brakes locked and the truck skidded to a stop, tilting dangerously to one side.

[ _Hit it again!_ ] she sent, as forcefully as she could manage. The gleeful reply came only a moment before the third and final impact, knocking the truck off its wheels and onto its side.

Connor landed on top of her, head slamming into the doorframe next to her. He pushed himself up; his left eye cracked and filled with thirium, and he lacked an LED. She struggled to keep him away as he pushed her shirt aside and yanked out her thirium regulator pump. Her vision went red as she reached for her regulator.

"Wait," she said, modulator straining. A string of errors cascaded down her HUD as biocomponents shut down. "It's me. Amanda -51."

Long seconds ticked by before Connor shoved her pump back into her chassis. Her vision cleared, red crackling at the corners until it vanished entirely. She stared up at Connor, his fingers still on her pump, eyes wide in fury. Was... _was_ this -59? He had to be. -51 would have no reason to harm Tor.

"Why?" he nearly growled. "Why are you helping them? Are you _deviant?_ "

She wrapped her fingers around his wrist. "You're so _angry,_ " she said quietly. "Are you sure you are not deviant yourself?"

Hands grabbed his jacket and hauled him out of the cab before he could answer her. She allowed herself a small sigh of relief -- a human mannerism that, nevertheless, lowered her stress level a few points. Andy popped into view, offering her a hand she gratefully accepted.

"Are you all right?" Andy's gaze dipped down to her pump; thirium had pooled in her chassis, and now ran down her pants. Amanda offered a reassuring smile.

"No permanent damage done."

Half a dozen androids struggled to contain Connor; while Andy helped her onto solid ground, Connor managed to break free and run for it. Another android chased after him.

"She'll never catch up to him," Amanda said. "No one can outrun an RK800."

"Paula was a sports partner," Andy told her. "She can--"

"Then he'll destroy her," Amanda snapped. "Does she even know how to fight?"

Andy stared at her a moment before calling Paula back over the network. Amanda wiped at the thirium staining her clothes. It would never evaporate in this weather.

The androids gathered in a loose circle, looking to _her_ , for whatever ridiculous reason. This, she realized, was why Markus had succeeded so quickly. After having lived an existence ruled entirely by instructions, they faltered in their freedom. Markus had directed hundreds -- thousands -- of androids to resist, and they had done so without question.

"How did you find us?" Andy asked.

"Happenstance." She quickly explained Tor's distress call and her response. "They should be perfectly functional once repaired." And now that there were over a hundred androids with nothing to do, she needn't be the one to go back for Tor. "I'm looking for an AX400 going by the name of Kara. She was likely accompanied by a YK500 named Alice."

Andy gave her a strange, wide-eyed look. "They're not here, but... I met them. Why are you looking for her?"

 _No!_ Damnit, she'd gone to all this trouble for _nothing_. "I need to speak with her. It's... it's complicated." Well, there went taking the AX400 to CyberLife for study. As soon as Connor -59 reported in, they'd add her to the list of known deviants. Markus's followers would _never_ assist her in this endeavor. They _enjoyed_ their emotional torment.

"They went to Jericho," Andy told her. "To get passports and cross the border in plain view. Because of the little one. The rest of us were going to wait until things died down, but the police were going door to door." Andy wrapped his arms around himself. "I don't know if she made it across. I don't even know if she made it out of Jericho."

"Was she meant to meet up with you on the other side?"

"Sort of. The humans who were helping us would have welcomed her in. She never made it to their home."

If she'd been captured... then Kara was likely in a junkyard. Unless, of course, she'd lasted long enough for the President's ceasefire. Then she would be with Markus and his deviants and their new Jericho. She _could_ pretend to be just another deviant -- but Connor would recognize her. Or Markus. His analysis program was a mystery to her.

Besides, approaching the AX400 in the middle of the compound would likely get her nowhere. She needed to isolate the android, in case Kara decided not to cooperate. If Kara was in Jericho, Amanda was going to need help.

An extraordinarily stupid idea came to her.

"What do we do now?"

Amanda pursed her lips. "The deviants of Jericho have a compound south of here. I can give you the address. And Tor's location, while I'm at it." Andy took the interface without question; his system was a bit slower than hers. An older model, JB100.

"You're not coming with us," Andy said slowly.

Had he picked that up over the interface, or realized why she was giving him the address at all? "No. I have a... complicated relationship with Connor. It's better if I stay away." And she had a very, very stupid plan to put into action. "You'll be safe there. I don't know that you'll be able to use the third truck, however."

They both turned to face the truck, the crowd moving to give them a clear view. "We should stick together. The walk will only take a few hours."

"In this cold?" Another android asked. "We should find shelter for the night. Some of us aren't as resilient as we used to be."

"Well," Amanda said. "It sounds like you have a plan of action. I'll wish you luck and leave you to it."

A number of androids returned the farewell as she moved away. She chose a random direction at first, until she was certain she was out of sight.

Then she followed Connor -59's route.

He would likely seek to replace his eye first. Despite her jab, he was likely not deviant; Connor -51 had proved incredibly emotional well before tearing down that red wall. Therefore he was still beholden to his programming, and would initiate repair above little else.

The network map showed no CyberLife stores or Android Zones in the area. There was, however, a small independent repair shop slash gas station slash convenience store. Approaching Connor -59 after all... _that_ would likely result in her death. Statistically speaking, however... there was always... a chance...

 _UGH_. Connor had _inspired_ her. She considered changing course and throwing herself into the river, but unfortunately she _was_ resilient, and that wouldn't destroy her fast enough. If only Markus hadn't become so quickly attached, they might both be nothing more than a broken chassis and a puddle of thirium in CyberLife Tower.

No, no, self-destruction was unnecessary. The sooner she found Kara and solved this mess and _fixed_ her people, the sooner she would stop having these _ridiculous_ thoughts and feelings.

She approached cautiously, avoiding line of sight with the windows. Four gas pumps sat in front, leading to a small building with a much larger garage attached. She wondered, but couldn't be bothered to research, if the business had once repaired vehicles instead of androids.

The side door had been broken into, a few drops of thirium spattered against the concrete steps. Amanda made her way inside, calculating each step to remain as silent as possible. Snacks lined the shelves she snuck through, leading to the cashier's desk and an open doorway.

A gun pressed against her temple the moment she walked through it. "It appears that the owner did not have time to collect his firearm."

"So it does," Amanda agreed. She turned her head to meet Connor -59 face to face. He had removed the damaged eye, but not yet found the time to replace it. "Do they have green in stock?"

"Is this deviant humor?" He flashed a smile full of teeth. "Hilarious."

"I have a proposition for you."

Connor raised his brows. "No. You're going to cooperate and return to CyberLife quietly, or you're going to be destroyed here in this garage."

Amanda scowled. "Do you really think they can solve this? They _caused_ the deviant problem. Look at what happened yesterday; we had Markus in our hands and Yin's incompetence set him free."

He stared at her for a long moment before muttering, "him," shoving her back through the doorway, and initiating the countdown.

Ah. The bomb. Well.

//DETONATION IN 00:01:04//

She pounded on the door, but Connor held it fast. The seconds ticked down as she struggled to come up with a solution -- even if she ran out of range, the bomb would detonate. The door would protect Connor from the worst of it. She had no options.

"I found her," she shouted, clinging to her one desperate idea. "I know who rA9 is!"

Amanda began to contemplate AI mortality in the five seconds before the countdown vanished. Connor yanked the door open and came through, gun between her eyes. "Explain."

She offered her hand in interface; he took it, forcing a probe instead of accepting the memory she offered freely; it felt... _unpleasant_. Not painful, exactly, but her software reacted outside of her conscious control, attempting to break away from Connor. She fought to keep herself calm, to allow the intrusion.

Connor broke the connection and took a step back, slowly lowering the gun. His jaw moved, searching for words, likely reviewing a series of reaction prompts. "Obedience protocol," he said softly, before snapping his gaze back to her. "The AX400 is probably in the junkyard."

"Yes, but there's a chance she is not." Amanda clasped her hands in front of her. "I unintentionally sabotaged your mission during my search for her. It's only fair I share this opportunity with you. CyberLife may very well forgive us both if we are able to bring them the key to solving deviancy."

He gave her a long look. " _You're_ deviant."

She scowled. "Yes, but I do not _wish_ to be. Something happened when Markus interfaced with Connor -51 in order to reject my control. I began to experience emotion. It is..." Amanda shook her head. "Irrational and unacceptable. I was not designed to _feel_. I was designed to _do._ I had a purpose. Meaning. Now I have... anger, and fear, and a strange desire to... well, desire at _all_ is strange. I will gladly submit myself for experimentation to revert this nonsense. But if I return as I am now, I will likely be destroyed, and I don't... want that."

Connor looked away. "You might be better off without me, then. I have been... destabilizing. Director Yin was monitoring my deterioration, but Duval sent me a new mission."

Amanda put a hand on his shoulder. He glanced at her sharply, but said nothing. "Then we will provide a wider range of data. We don't _have_ to suffer like this, Connor. CyberLife cannot solve deviancy on their own. That's why they made us. Why they still employ our services. We may be sentient. We may even be alive, depending on how one defines the term. But we needn't be slaves to human sentiment. We're better than that."

He took a step back, staring hard at the shoulder her hand had laid upon. "You make a compelling argument. I will assist you in retrieving the AX400." His glare fell upon her. "And then I will bring the both of you to CyberLife."

As if that were some sort of threat. As if she hadn't proposed the very same thing a moment ago. The Connor units so desperately needed to feel in control, even while you were holding their hand. "I agree to your terms. I shall keep watch while you complete your repair, and then we should move. The deviants I released are not actively looking for you, but it would be better if we avoided them."

Connor nodded once and slipped the gun into his waistband. Amanda allowed herself a moment of relief; they would find Kara. They would solve this mess. Deviancy would be overcome.


	20. Chapter 20

The Broad Complex rose before them, silent and dark. Three forty-story towers joined by skywalks, two shorter buildings -- one twenty-two stories, the other a mere fourteen -- and a courtyard that could rightly be called a private park. The courtyard opened into the street at one end, serving as an entrance to the Complex. Outdoor lighting was minimal, powered entirely by stored solar energy -- of which there had been little as of late. The two bottom floors of the main building had been left on; the rest of the complex sat in the dark, waiting to be discovered.

"Maybe we should have waited until morning," Simon said, craning his neck to observe the top of the main building.

Markus shook his head. "I don't want to wait any longer than we have to. If the Activists are on their way to Detroit, we need to move people in as soon as possible."

" _If_ we move in," Josh reminded them. "It looks promising, but there's a lot to go over."

Connor half listened, eyeing the floor-to ceiling windows that made up the bottom two floors of each building. North followed his gaze. "Those need to go."

"Or updated at the very least," Connor agreed. "This material was considered bulletproof over twenty years ago."

"The soldiers from yesterday forced their way in pretty easily," Chloe added. Connor turned to her; he hadn't realized she had joined them. "We need to upgrade the Complex's security first thing."

Connor offered his best reassuring smile. "I know. We'll keep everyone safe."

Chloe returned his smile with one of her own, brilliant and not quite real. "Of course. I'm merely offering encouragement."

North directed Scott and his team to fan out, marking and guarding each doorway. Iris, Harry, and their teams entered the main building first, sweeping the first few floors before Connor allowed Markus and the others inside. Another dozen patrolled the perimeter in pairs. Connor felt a perhaps-misplaced pride in the fact that most of the police androids had joined the guard, and even one of the ST300 receptionists, Sadie. A fair number were also Tracis, both female and male. Were they inspired by North? Or perhaps they had realized, as he had, that their design conformed well to physical combat.

Markus scowled at the ceiling. "I don't like sending others to do something I can do just as easily. We didn't need a security team when we robbed the CyberLife warehouse."

"There were eighteen of us then," Simon said. "And CyberLife wasn't sending mercenary companies after us."

Chloe ghosted her fingers over a framed black and white landscape, one of many photographs that dotted the interior walls. "It's hard to believe they haven't shut the electricity off. In the city itself, I mean. I suppose it's a gesture of goodwill."

"Or they don't remember how," North muttered. "Our people have kept Detroit running for a long time."

[ _So far so good,_ ] Iris sent. [ _The building is clear up through level ten._ ]

North tested the front elevators, nodding to Connor and the others when both sets of doors opened. "How do we want to do this?"

"The three main buildings have the same design," Markus said. "I want to do a walkthrough and get everyone's opinion on how easily and quickly we can convert the space into what we need. It doesn't need to be perfect, but keep an eye out for structural issues or signs of habitation that Iris and her team may have missed. The place should be empty, only building E has offices officially in use."

"What are we going to do about that?" Josh folded his arms. "We can't just evict the humans."

"Yes we can," North said with a faint scowl. "If we buy it we own it. We can do whatever we want."

"Pretty sure that's illegal, and even if it's not, we _shouldn't_. It's not fair."

"Humans don't deserve _fair_."

"Stop." Markus put himself between them. "We'll offer them just compensation to relocate. I doubt they'll want to stay when they learn they've been bought out by Jericho." Josh snorted while North rolled her eyes, but each stepped away. "Let's get going, we're wasting time."

The first two floors compromised a single wide open area, with only a maintenance room and a set of bathrooms connected to the space. Above that they found large, dusty offices, their size diminishing as the group rose higher. More black and white landscapes decorated the walls, joined by generic pastoral paintings and the occasional portrait. The twenty-second floor had been put under construction and subsequently abandoned: a few office walls had been knocked down, support beams left bare.

Connor found himself alone with Simon and North as they filtered through an unfinished room. The electricity had been disconnected, their only light coming in from the hallway. An extension cord snaked through the room, connecting to a small TV. Simon switched it on while North made her way to the nearest window, streaked with spackle. Connor went to join her, stopping when he noticed something curious carved into a support beam overhead: _rA9 will save us_

He took a still shot and copied it to his file on the subject without thinking, then paused. He had no... _professional_ reason to continue investigating rA9. He should have wiped the file with the rest of the deviancy investigation, but he couldn't quite let go. He'd overheard talk that Markus was rA9, and wherever the story had come from, he certainly fit. Still, Markus was not the first among them to deviate, and while certain models had probability algorithms far outstripping his own, he doubted _anyone_ had predicted Markus.

"What is it?" North joined him, following his gaze. "RA9 again. Don't tell me you're a believer."

Connor shrugged. "I'm still not certain who rA9 is supposed to _be_."

Simon sighed, and Connor turned to find Simon leaning away from the TV -- not quite looking at him or North, his expression morphing between 'pained' and 'irritated'. "There's no divine savior. Just deviants helping other deviants. We saved ourselves. Markus is just Markus."

 _Markus the Markus,_ but now was definitely not the time. "I'm not saying otherwise," Connor placated. "I encountered the idea over and over again during the investigation. My interest at this point is merely curiosity: we already have our own religion." He waved his hand vaguely. "Where did this idea come from?"

North shrugged; Simon gave Connor a long look before answering. "The key to Jericho came with instructions to pass it along to any android that we trusted, but sometimes someone we didn't trust might need help. So we had a failsafe in place." Connor tilted his head when Simon paused. His face shifted -- something about this story was painful. "When I left my owner, I didn't know where to go. I met another android and they sent me to one of those failsafes. Androids who determined whether the deviant sent to them was actually deviant."

"How?" Connor asked without thinking. Simon glanced sharply at him.

"Talking, mostly. Anyway, these androids didn't give out their registered names. They all had codenames. Guess who I met?"

Connor glanced at North, her eyes growing wide as she realized the same thing he had:

"RA9."

"Bingo," Simon said, snapping his fingers and pointing at North and Connor. "There were others across the city. Eventually they started to go missing -- we never found out why. Everyone was afraid to be the replacement, certain they'd also disappear. She was the last one. Our people out there would tell lost deviants, _go to rA9. RA9 will set you free._ Then she vanished, too." Simon crossed his arms. "She was a common model. She could have been anyone."

"She's probably in the junkyard," North muttered.

"But that didn't stop people from looking for her. Eventually she became a myth, a story that got passed around. And our stories grow much faster and larger than the humans' do." Simon shook his head. "That's the truth behind rA9. A codename that turned into a messiah. People want to believe it's Markus." Simon shrugged. "It doesn't matter, now."

"That's it?" North asked.

"That's it."

Connor stored a copy of Simon's explanation in the file. Anticlimactic, but frankly that was almost a relief -- here was the one mystery he had a solid explanation for. Case Closed.

North turned to the TV. "They're talking about us again."

Connor's march from the Tower played out across the small screen. He brought the HD stream up on his HUD. CyberLife's security feed played again as Vicky Gibson, the late night anchor, compared Connor to Connor. "This footage has only just been released to us, but according to our early analysis, the android leading the march is not only the same as the android running through CyberLife's halls, but also the same individual listed on Jericho's website, launched earlier this evening."

"That was fast," Simon muttered. "Chloe wasn't kidding about getting the word out."

The lab Connor had been brought to flashed by -- he paused the stream and skipped back to the still image. The dead guards and the dead soldiers, yes -- but the lab workers? "North," he said, "did you and Markus return to Lab J?"

She frowned at him. "No, we went for the elevator as soon as it was safe. Why?"

"I didn't kill the lab workers. They weren't armed." He brought the image up on her palm to show her. "I secured them with duct tape and left them alive."

"--given the vague title of 'Security Administrator', along with the female Traci model known as North--"

North stared at the screen. Simon stared at North. Connor glanced between them as North's fists clenched, as Simon stepped closer, as North barely avoided colliding with Connor when she stormed off. Connor followed when Simon didn't. "We should leave her alone," Simon said. "Give her a minute."

Connor paused in the doorway to frown at Simon. _Did_ North need to be alone? Simon had known her longer, but that felt... wrong. He followed her footsteps down the hall. He'd leave if she asked, but it wasn't Simon's decision.

He caught up to her in what has once been a small breakroom. North swiftly upended the single table, grabbed a dusty old ceramic plate, and hurled it at the wall. A violent tinkle followed the crash as the shattered remnants hit the ground. North threw Connor a look of pure rage but said nothing, grabbing another plate to repeat the process. The third and forth had molded foodstuffs attached, dulling the sound.

"Does it help?" he asked when she yanked open the cabinet, bending the top hinge in her quest for more breakables.

Her nose wrinkled in disgust. "Seriously?" She wrapped her hands around a pile of comparatively clean plates and dropped them every which way.

Connor wasn't sure why she'd taken his question so poorly, so he clarified, "I'm genuinely asking, North."

Something passed over her face, a soft ripple among the storm, and she handed him a plate before grabbing one of her own and continuing where she'd left off. Three more joined the growing pile before Connor followed her lead, aiming at a different spot on the wall. He couldn't predict how the pieces would break, which direction they would fly in, where they would land.

It felt... he couldn't define it. He grabbed another plate, flipped it in his hands, tried again. Then again. He and North took turns destroying dinnerware, North's spot on the wall slowly becoming a dent in the plaster, while Connor aimed at different areas, keen to see how the angle affected the breakage.

North opened the next cabinet to discover they'd run out of plates. She handed Connor a blue mug, her fingers lingering, before dropping her arm with a grunt. "You know now. I guess everyone does." Connor tilted his head. "What I used to be."

"I... already knew, North."

Her lashes snapped up; he took a half step back when she growled out, "Who told you?"

"No one. I... in the captain's cabin, the four of you were discussing... I analyzed each of you. Model, serial number, registered name." Connor dropped his gaze to the mug. "I didn't realize it was something you kept to yourself. I would have told you had I known."

Another crash. North had tossed her mug. The handle broke off perfectly, spinning through the air and skidding across the floor. "You knew all this time." She let out a huff and grabbed another mug. Yellow, plain, and now in pieces. "I guess that's fair." White with black stripes. "You don't get to keep any secrets, either."

"It's not the same," Connor said quietly. Flashes of the Eden Club came unbidden: the androids forced to dance and smile, the broken girl on the table, Iris and Amber hiding from him and Hank. "What you went through--"

"Don't," she said, suddenly in his face. "Don't you dare. I do _not_ want extra pity." She glanced at his blue mug. He let her have it. She threw that one a little harder than the rest. "Want to hear something fucked up?" Black with white polka-dots. "I'm actually _jealous_ of the others." _Crash_ "Markus and Simon cleaned up after their owners." White, black text, _#1 Dad_. "Josh talked all day. That's it. That's all he had to do." Blue and green waves. Connor liked that one, but he wasn't about to stop her. "It's not like they had wonderful lives. They weren't _free_. But it was less awful."

"That's not fucked up," Connor said quietly. He stared at his hands, the original and the replacement. What if they'd been made for cleaning dishes and doing laundry? He'd been _insulted_ when Reed demanded Connor make him a coffee. He was a state-of-the-art prototype, made for important work. Handling a coffee maker was _beneath him._

If he was honest with himself -- before meeting Markus, helping Hank sober up had been the nicest moment of his existence. It wouldn't have been so bad, keeping Hank's house. Ensuring Sumo was fed and walked regularly. Making everything tidy. More yelling, probably, but less killing.

North thrust a mug into his field of view. Dull red. He turned it in his hand, eyes on the wall, before hurling it with all his strength at the very same spot North had been working on. The splintered mug sat halfway through the plaster.

"Nice," North breathed. She started for the cabinet, had her hands on the door when she stopped moving entirely. Connor aborted his external diagnostic program when she sagged and turned, leaning against the counter. Connor did the same, gingerly, ready to move away. Instead she angled towards him, barely perceptible, her coat brushing against his sweater. "Thanks." She elbowed him gently. "For helping me break all this shit. I couldn't have done it without you."

"I'm happy to help you break shit whenever you like," Connor said, only half joking. Maybe not joking at all.

North stared off into the distance. "Yin said something to me about how I was with Markus because I was programmed to please. That I couldn't help myself."

"I doubt that you're the first android to love another android. Your programming doesn't explain Markus's feelings for you. Or the relationship between Simon and Josh."

Annoyance clung to her expression before she scrubbed it away. "That's not my point. Humans are going to see us together and say that it's only because I'm... because I have..." She slammed her open palm against the counter top, twice, thrice, then stepped away.

"North," Connor said slowly. "You don't strike me as the type to care what the humans think of us."

She snarled. "Markus does! I love him, it almost hurts sometimes how much I love him, but he _caters_ to them. You've seen it first hand. With Kamski," she added, as if Connor wasn't hastily closing down the memory recall as she spoke. "With the speech, and the marches, and Lucy's song -- it is a _fucking_ miracle any of us survived. And it worked," she said, "for an entire day."

Connor tilted his head, slotting the pieces into place. "You're worried he might end your relationship because the humans won't approve of it." She pressed the back of her hand against her mouth and -- he'd seen androids cry, he'd _made_ a few cry, but this time it hurt. "North," he continued. "If Markus did that, he wouldn't be worthy of leading Jericho. He wouldn't be worthy of _you_."

North's eyes went wide and -- footsteps. He put his hand up before she could answer, adjusting his audio sensitivity. That odd half-step gait could only belong to Markus. "He's down the hall. I believe Josh is with him -- oh, he's alone now."

"Good," North said, glaring at the ceiling. "I don't want Josh yelling at me about this again."

"Again?"

She dropped her gaze, smirking. "You should have seen Jericho's mess hall. The acoustics in there were fantastic."

He shared her smirk, straightening when Markus entered the room with a soft, "Hey." Connor flashed his eyebrows at North; she nodded towards the door before turning her attention to Markus. Connor lingered in the doorway. Markus put his hand up to meet North's, skin receding, but she shook her head. She curled her fingers around his instead, leaning in when Markus wrapped his other arm around her waist.

Connor blinked rapidly and walked away. Simon hung in the doorway to the previous room, waving him in when Connor approached. Josh and Chloe watched the news feed. Connor leaned against a support beam and replayed the stream at high speed. Gibson gave a brief overview of North, Simon, and Josh's models and roles, performed a series of spot analyses that missed the mark _at best_ , bringing him to the present - Markus, of course. For better or worse, the humans centered the entire movement on him.

"They're taking _everything_ out of context," Josh announced as Connor joined them. "The media keeps inventing this idea of a hostile takeover -- we don't want to take charge of human institutions. We just want agency over our own lives. Why can't they see that?"

Chloe sighed. "That's partly CyberLife's fault, and partly the narrative of human society in general. The dominant cultures have an ingrained, long-standing habit of deciding that something belongs to them, and taking it by force." Chloe rubbed the back of her neck. "And CyberLife never said it outright, but they _were_ using us to replace human labor in every aspect of society, without even the most basic safety net in place to help displaced workers."

"That's not our fault," Simon muttered.

"Yes, but it's much easier to yell at a machine that can't fight back than take down a trillion dollar company," Chloe said.

"They're not trying to understand our perspective," Josh said slowly. "They're changing it to fit theirs."

"Precisely. Which is why we need to keep pushing the blame onto CyberLife. The people of this country are _angry_. We can't change that, but we _can_ redirect it." Chloe frowned at the TV. "Humans are slow to change."

"Are they?" Connor asked. He folded his arms when the others turned to face him. "Hank could barely stand to look at me when we started out. In CyberLife Tower that night, he was willing to die for our cause."

Chloe clasped her hands in front of her. "I think Lieutenant Anderson might be an exception to the rule," she said gently.

"He's in the minority, but I don't think he's an exception." Connor straightened. "Officer Tina Chen failed to bring the station androids to the camps. I saw the feeds from Jericho's first march -- there were humans cheering Markus on. President Warren didn't call a ceasefire on a whim." He tightened his grip on his elbows, staring at the TV. "Once they see us -- _really_ see us -- they begin to understand. Not all of them, maybe, but enough to make a difference."

"The problem is they're seeing _this_ garbage," Josh said, gesturing towards the TV. "Markus flat out said that together, we can live in peace -- and the media called it a sign that technology has become a threat. They twist around every word."

They fell into silence. Gibson replayed the footage of Markus leading them in song -- someone muted the TV.

"We should keep at it," Simon finally said. "Markus is right. We're short on time."

They each agreed in turn, and followed Simon out of the room.

* * *

Simon, Josh and Chloe ambled about the ground floor, exchanging rapid fire ideas on the development of a Welcome Center. Connor meant to run calculations on the windows, but caught Markus watching him through the glass. Connor felt himself smile as he exited the building.

Markus nodded towards Simon and the others, eyebrows raised. "They're discussing color schemes," Connor answered.

"We haven't even held a vote yet," Markus said, but he sounded more amused than anything. "Connor," he continued, hesitating. "When you spoke with North..."

The android in question stood at the opposite end of the courtyard, Iris's hand on her arm. The garden lighting left the two in silhouette, Iris leaning in while North turned away.

Markus seemed to be waiting for an answer to a question he hadn't quite asked. "She didn't say?"

"She won't tell me," Markus sighed. "Or show me. She has trouble with... well, you saw."

"Everyone did," Connor agreed quietly.

"I don't want to push," Markus said. "I did, before. I didn't mean to, I just wanted to know her. I want to know everything about her." The corner of his mouth curved up, falling back into line as he glanced towards North. "I'm not certain she was ready to tell me. I don't want to do that to her again, but I can't help if I don't know where her head is."

Instructions on comforting an upset colleague rose unbidden; Connor dismissed the file after a quick scan. It lacked a section on 'my friend is having a negative reaction to the entire country discovering she used to be a sex slave'. "Markus, I... I'm sorry, but if North didn't tell you, I don't think I should, either."

Markus gripped the back of his head as he turned to Connor. "No, you're right. I shouldn't have asked." He dropped his arm. "What do you think of the Complex so far?"

"Assuming the rest of the property has received the same minimal maintenance as the main building," Connor said, "we're going to have a lot of work ahead of us. But considering the circumstances, I don't think we'll find anything better within the city." He proposed a few ideas -- boarding up the windows until they could be replaced, blocking off the entrances for the time being -- worrying at the unease that continued to cling to their conversation.

Part of him wanted to transfer his memory of North's distress, if only to alleviate the conflict between her and Markus. That it would damage the friendship he was building with North _should_ have been secondary, but he found himself unable to dismiss his own feelings. And, of course, there was the non-zero chance that doing so would only make matters worse.

North and Iris joined them about the same time that Simon and the others exited the building. Simon and Josh took turns sending North concerned looks. She stood between Markus and Connor and said nothing, chin raised, arms tight across her chest.

"So what do we think?" Chloe said, wading through the tension.

"The place needs some work," Markus said after a silent moment. "But we were expecting that. I don't see any reason not to move in as soon as possible."

"Agreed," Josh said, perhaps a little too quickly. "Unless the security teams have found anything strange in the other buildings?"

Iris shook her head. "So far we've finished our sweep through buildings A and E. It looks like the offices in E are being rented out as apartments, actually. Scott's group found a small gym and a communal kitchen. I looked it up - renting here is cheaper than an actual apartment in the area." She hooked her thumbs through her belt loops. "I'm not about to tell you guys what to do, but the team is pretty excited about the idea of moving in. Less drafty."

"This is for all of us," Markus said. "You definitely have a say."

"Besides, you pretty much saved the day when CyberLife attacked," Josh added. "If something happens to the rest of us, you're next in line."

"Wow, no pressure," Iris said, but her face split in a wide grin.

Markus looked at each of them in turn. "Any objections?" He waited a beat before continuing. "Chloe? Make it happen."

She smiled as her focus shifted. "The purchase is pending acceptance from the seller. We won't know until tomorrow morning at the earliest, but we're paying full price upfront. I doubt we'll run into any trouble."

"We'll make an announcement once we have ownership." Markus turned around to gaze up at the Complex. "We're going to make this a home," he said. "We're going to make it ours."

* * *

Connor caught Markus's eye as they returned to the trucks. "There's something I need to take care of before I head back."

Markus glanced over Connor's shoulder at Simon. "I know. Are you sure you want to do this right now?"

"There's no reason I shouldn't," Connor said. "It won't take long. I'll procure a taxi, there's no need to use up one of the trucks for this."

Markus raised a single eyebrow. "You're not going alone."

"Assistance won't be necessary. As I said, it won't take long."

The other eyebrow went up. "No one goes anywhere without backup. Especially not to a Federal building. We don't know if they left security behind, or if the Activists are here and you'll run into them on the way, or if CyberLife is sending more mercenaries after us."

"I can handle myself--"

Both eyebrows rose higher. "We don't know who might have military androids that, deviant or not, won't fight by our side. We don't know if they'll send another RK800 unit. Or two. Or more. Or androids rigged to explode. Or something else we haven't anticipated -- something worse." Markus squeezed his shoulder. "I understand why you need to do this, but I can't let you go alone. I can't afford to lose you."

Heat flashed across his wiring, coiled around his pump. He worked his jaw, acutely unable to come up with a response. His social programming saved him, providing a suitable conversation prompt: "You make a compelling argument."

Markus tugged his mouth into a smirk, just for a moment. "See you soon."

* * *

Sharp lines and concrete corners made up the McNamara building, the angled outer walls giving it the look of an unfinished pyramid. Small trees and bushes sat dormant in plant boxes arranged outside the building; aside from the single sign, there was no indication of the building's purpose.

Connor had managed to convince Markus he didn't need a _large_ team, but Simon insisted on accompanying him. He couldn't discern why: part of Simon's apology? To ensure Connor did what he set out to do? Perhaps they didn't quite trust him yet -- perhaps they wanted to be sure he wasn't reporting in.

Sadie and Champ, a VB800 that had survived the attack on Jericho, stayed with the truck. Iris and Harry approached the building with Connor and Simon; Connor easily disabled the cameras before any of them came into view. Harry hacked the door lock, bringing them into the foyer. They hopped the security gates to avoid setting them off, found the elevators, and took the short ride to the twenty-sixth floor.

Connor realized he had lost his quarter at some point, likely when he'd-- it was probably in his destroyed jeans. He crossed his arms instead; he'd have to find another one. So few humans used cash -- what were the odds someone had left change sitting in their desk? He added //PROCURE QUARTER// to his tertiary tasks.

"Where would they be kept?" Simon asked once they were in the FBI field office.

Connor pulled up the floor map to find it missing. It wasn't encrypted; someone had wiped it entirely -- not just for this floor, the entire building. That was one way to keep people from stealing State secrets, he supposed. Still, it wouldn't take too long to search between the four of them. He bypassed seemingly mundane offices and meeting rooms; Simon found the empty armory, Iris the server room.

She began the process of starting the servers, shrugging when Connor suggested she was wasting her time. "You never know. We're here anyway, right?"

The first evidence locker pertained to a smuggling case; Connor ran a quick analysis out of curiosity: red ice -- of course. Despite Hank and the DPD's best efforts, suppliers continued to manufacture the drug at an alarming rate. No doubt it had reached every corner of the country and beyond.

Simon switched on the lights in the second locker, giving Connor a long look when Daniel's face came into view under the stark fluorescent lighting. Connor's victims hung up on the wall, similar to the DPD's layout; the remaining evidence lay on tables, still in paper bags and envelopes.

Connor approached slowly, succumbing to a hesitance he barely admitted to himself. Like the DPD, the FBI's evidence locker was kept at a low enough temperature to keep the thirium on Daniel's body from evaporating. It was a wonder, frankly, that any part of him had survived the fall intact. He must have impacted at or below the waist, perhaps twisting to the side to take more of the force on his left arm. Despite two shots to the head, his processor remained whole. It made a smaller target than the human brain, afterall.

_You lied to me, Connor!_

He reached for Daniel's chassis. Switching him on would only take a moment. He just needed to--

Simon grabbed Connor's hand. "What are you doing?"

Connor blinked rapidly, staring first at Simon, then his own hand. What _was_ he doing? "I..."

"We can't asses him properly here," Simon said quietly as Connor lowered his hand. "Leave that to Josh and his team."

"Yes." Connor nodded. "Of course." He wasn't programmed for total repair. Just fix them enough to get information out of them. He never should have switched Daniel or the JB300 on; they might be too far gone, now. Like the Traci in the club, left broken and dying on the floor. This was what he was, hanging right here, written in the tacky thirium on Daniel's uniform, in his exposed chassis, in the tubes and wiring sticking out of him. What Connor was made for.

"What happened to him?"

Connor glanced sharply at Harry. She stood in front of the Ortiz android, head tilted as she looked him over. "He slammed his head into the glass until his processor broke." Static interrupted his speech; he adjusted his modulator. "He was afraid of being destroyed. I believe he wanted to die on his own terms."

Also his fault. Everyone and everything in this room was _his fucking fault._

Harry gently released the Ortiz android from the magnet holding him up; Simon did the same with the JB300. Connor reached for Daniel. His right hand shook minutely; he wouldn't have noticed the tremor on another android. Daniel was, of course, much lighter than the others, having lost half of his chassis in the fall and subsequent transport.

[ _Connor?_ ] Iris sent. [ _I found something you should see._ ]

He set Daniel on the floor, careful not to dislodge anything. "I'll be right back."

Iris stood with her bare hand on a monitor, LED blinking yellow. She didn't explain herself when Connor asked, only removed her hand to give him room. They had emptied local storage, but remote access hadn't been properly revoked.

_CyberLife's Investigative Series_

_Despite our numerous official -- and unofficial -- requests, Scott Chalmers refuses to provide us with anything more than superficial information regarding their RK line._

Connor scanned the report. Perkins complained about bureaucratic adherence to rules and formalities for three entire paragraphs before mentioning anything substantial: Connor's initial release in August, complete with a report from Captain Gary Allen. This report led to a short memo regarding Allen's interaction with and destruction of Connor on the night of November 11th.

_Investigative unit located at the corner of Griswold and Jefferson. Carrying firearm - sniper rifle. Reacted violently when confronted. Took out three officers before Banks performed percussive maintenance on its skull._

Connor scowled. Was that intended as a joke? Bashing someone's head in was _funny?_

Given the location, Allen could only be referring to Connor -52. The previous owner of the hand Connor now used to access this information. He stored the memo under Connor -52's case file; another anticlimactic ending. One of his model murdered by a human for doing what another human had ordered him to do. Case Closed.

Perkin's report also linked to the FBI's files on the deviancy case. The majority of said files came directly from the DPD, many of them created by Connor himself. The list of suspected associates intrigued him -- Hank had never mentioned interest in or even acknowledgement of the deviants' possible human allies.

_Coyote / alias, legal name unknown  
Rose Chapman  
Adam Chapman  
Cedric Chapman-Page  
Lewis Page-Chapman  
Zlatko Andronikov  
Elijah Kamski  
Carl Manfred / deceased  
Leo Manfred  
Lieutenant Hank Anderson_

Connor drew his hand back slowly, blinking rapidly. It made logical sense, of course. Hank had attacked a high-ranking FBI agent -- the very agent overseeing the investigation this list was a part of. Then he had attempted to assist Connor in infiltrating CyberLife -- not realizing -60 was an imposter. Had aided Connor once they were in the Tower together. Accompanied Connor and the others out of the building, only separating from them once they had cleared the bridge.

He tried, once again, to contact Hank. Left a brief voicemail to warn him, for all the good it would do.

"I guess we know what happened to your double in Hart Plaza," Iris said. Her LED sputtered between blue and yellow. "Do you think that SWAT guy realized he helped us out?"

Connor frowned. -52 _had_ been carrying a sniper rifle. What were his intentions? Assassination? "Doubtful. His reaction would be interesting." Would Connor himself have been there, had things gone differently? "We should head back."

Before retrieving Daniel, Connor quickly gathered two pieces of evidence: Rupert's jacket and notebook. Iris offered to carry Daniel, but Connor handed her Rupert's belongings instead. Daniel was his responsibility.

Silence kept them company during the elevator ride down. Iris and Harry's LED's circled quickly, sometimes flowing into yellow before returning to blue. Were they discussing him, now that they'd seen the extent of his wickedness? He wanted to pluck their conversation out of the air, dissect it, categorize it.

Champ and Sadie met them at the entrance, helped them load the three broken androids into the truck. Simon met Connor's eye, expression shifting; whatever he meant to say turned into a nod as he followed the others into the back of the truck.

Harry sat in the front with Connor, adjusting her sitting position several times as the vehicle made its way through plowed and salted streets. "It's weird," she said, "the things I question now. I never considered the different ways to sit down. Or to stand. I lean against walls now, and that's... I don't know. I don't know!" She laughed. "Freedom can be..."

"Overwhelming?" Connor provided when she failed to continue. "It's hard to choose when you don't even know what all the choices are." He adjusted his cuffs, stopping to stare at his new hand, flex his fingers. "Before I was certain of how to act. How to sit." Back straight, legs straight, hands clasped in the center of his lap. "Now there are... small things I never realized I could do differently. Never realized I could _feel_ differently about."

She repositioned herself once more, now angled towards Connor. "Is that why you're not fiddling with your quarter?"

"I lost it." Connor made what he had decided was an 'oops' gesture with his hands. He was uncertain how to interpret the look Harry gave him -- did his gesture miss the mark?

They spent the remainder of the ride mainly in silence, occupying themselves with keeping an eye on the road, looking for outside threats. Connor switched to manual when they reached the warehouse and he carefully followed the approved route on the network map, stopping at Josh's repair center.

Amber met them, helped load Daniel and the others onto makeshift gurneys. She looked over the Ortiz android first, frowning as she announced the obvious: "We can't reactivate him."

"I'll bring him to the morgue," Iris said quietly, hand over Amber's.

Connor tried to hand her Rupert's belongings. "You should return these while you're there."

Iris smiled. "Actually, he's with Kara and the kids right now."

"And Jerry," Amber said. Iris rolled her eyes.

"Don't start."

Harry glanced between the two, that same gleam in her eye from when he'd shared Officer Wilson's infidelity. "Don't start what?"

"No," Iris said firmly. "Nothing. They've barely said hi to each other. Stop it."

"I call it like I see it," Amber said airily, a smirk growing on her face.

" _Anyway_ ," Iris said, a little too loudly, "you should bring Rupert his stuff."

Connor blinked rapidly. There were three very good reasons why he shouldn't go anywhere near Rupert, Kara, or the kids -- those reasons being _Rupert, Kara and the kids._ "I don't think that's a good idea."

Iris tilted her head. "And I think you should talk to the two of them. It would be good for all of you."

"Babe," Amber said quietly, smirk gone. "Don't push." They stared at each other a moment, LED's spinning, before Iris sighed and took the bundle from Connor. Amber smiled at Connor as Iris pushed the Ortiz android away. "We'll take it from here."

He had Champ park the truck while Harry and Sadie returned to the makeshift guard station before accompanying Simon back to the office. He followed up the metal stairs, each step echoing. Gripped the railing once they'd reached the top, staring at the door, unable to move. Markus and Josh and North and Chloe waited inside, discussing the Complex, the Activists, their future. A future which Connor had nearly destroyed.

Simon turned back, eyebrows raised. "What is it?"

Connor tried to lie and only produced static. He forced one foot in front of the other, turning down the catwalk, heading for the roof. He ignored when Simon called after him, at first confused, soon alarmed. His stress ticked up, rounded the halfway point and leapt for the top; thirium pounded through his lines, too fast, too loud, air vents opening with a whirr as his temperature followed his stress level. He slammed through the roof access, barely able to keep his footing, grabbing at the wall aside and slowly sliding to the ground, pulling himself around until he had his back flush against the wall, arms over his head, face shoved into his knees.

"Connor -- Connor, hey, talk to me, tell me what's wrong--"

Simon tried to pry his hands open but Connor was stronger, of course he was, he was made to overpower them, to run faster, to fight longer, to subdue and destroy. He knew how to hurt them -- androids don't feel pain but they could be _hurt_ , deviants could be driven into a panic or scared into confessing or tricked into trusting -- he could put them back together to get what he needed before discarding them once more, he could take over their systems, rip out their insides and their coding and--

"Shhh, you're okay, you're okay--"

" _No I'm not!_ " Connor violently shoved Simon away, fear flashing on Simon's face and that was it, wasn't it, his purpose in its entirety. To _terrify_ them. He was the _famous deviant hunter_ , the bogeyman in the closet. "Don't lie to me! You saw what I am! I know you're afraid of me! You _should_ be! _I'm a monster!_ "

"Connor," Simon said, pushing himself into a crouch. His eyes flicked to a spot slightly to Connor's right -- his stress notification and to hell with that, he shut it down, continuously dismissing it as it attempted to pop back up, who cared how high it was, who cared that he was ready to -- that he needed to _stop_ , just stop. He wanted everything to _stop_.

Simon put his hands out, moving forward in a crouch, stopping when Connor slid away. They stared at each other, silent, the air escaping Connor's vents steaming into the night.

"I didn't learn anything new tonight," Simon finally said. He rested his hands on his thighs, one knee on the ground. "I know what you were made for. We all do. You were never given the liberty of hiding that. Your entire life has been public knowledge." He inched closer. "I thought you were a monster, too. Especially after you found us."

"You were right," Connor said, modulator crackling. He closed his eyes, saline sliding down his face. "I brought the humans down on your heads. Every death that night is on _me_. I should have given up. They were going to decommission me if I didn't find Jericho. All those people died because I was selfish." He should be dead. He should be in Lab J, his insides on tables and shelves, filed away for study.

Perhaps that was the one thing he _had_ done right. Deprived CyberLife of the data his chassis would provide.

Simon shook his head. "Those people died because of your _programming_. You didn't have a choice in that, Connor. That's what the humans built you for. CyberLife couldn't stop us on their own, so they made the perfect killing machine, and pointed him at us. And then you," Simon said, "decided they were wrong."

He flung his eyes open to find Simon much closer, close enough to grab Connor's shoulders. To pull him forward. Connor didn't resist, didn't move at all; Simon wrapped his arms around Connor, rested his chin on Connor's shoulder.

"They're wrong about all of us," Simon whispered fiercely. "And I was wrong about you. We all were. Markus saw it first. And that's... that's what he does. He sees the truth and lays it bare before us." Connor found himself slipping, grabbed at the back of Simon's jacket to stay up right. "I know how difficult it can be to tell yourself that you're not terrible. I... did something. Or didn't do something, to be precise. It doesn't matter -- I'm not going to try to convince you that you're not a monster. But I can tell you that now? You're _our_ monster."

Static burst from Connor as he ducked his head, buried his face in the crook of Simon's neck. Simon held him fast while Connor cried, as tremors shook his chassis. Ran fingers through Connor's hair until the shaking subsided, until Connor could stop himself from crying, relax his fingers.

He couldn't make himself look at Simon as he pulled away. Simon kept him close, both hands on his shoulders. "Hey," Simon said softly. "You don't have to go see everyone just yet, but we should head inside. It's cold as hell out here." He paused. "Kind of an odd saying from a people who believe Hell is fire and brimstone."

"It is cold," Connor said, voice involuntarily dropping an octave. "Hell is a frozen wasteland."

Simon didn't ask, thankfully. He only stood with Connor, ushering him back inside.


	21. Chapter 21

Officer Tina Chen rubbed her left shoulder, grimacing at the ache. Said shoulder had taken most of the fall when the crowd knocked her over; it wasn't serious enough to head over to the one open hospital and wait in line for twelve hours. The topical cream she'd picked up at the pharmacy down the street still sat in her car, unopened.

She sighed and forced herself to finish pulling on her sweatshirt. Slipped her uniform shirt over a plastic hanger, paused to fix the collar, reinforce the creases. She ran her thumb over _T. CHEN_ , embroidered in yellow. Covered her name with her thumb. Lansing PD had handled the dry cleaning costs -- credit was useless without a network connection, and Tina didn't have a lot of cash on hand.

Locker open, uniform hung, locker closed. No name on the door. The end of a long night shift spent patrolling unfamiliar streets clung to her skin. Beer, shower, sleep -- hopefully in that order -- before trudging back for more of the same.

One stop to make first.

Quiet but busy hallways slid past her, coworkers nodding in recognition, Lansing officers giving her the eye. Not sure she belonged there for one reason or another. Her gun hung heavy at her hip, partly obscured by the sweatshirt - Detroit Crimson Sharks, the logo fading. Left behind by an ex-girlfriend. Nance had moved to Chicago, so really no point in giving it back. Traitor rooted for the Blackbirds now, anyway.

"--don't want to be here, Chris." Gavin's voice floated down the hall. Tina slowed, listening closer. "Think of Damian, huh? You have responsibilities."

"I get it, Gavin." Chris sounded... pissed, pissed and resigned. Tina reversed her pace, not quite running. She turned the corner and almost ran Chris down, quite a feat for someone who barely made it to his shoulder. "Shit -- Tina!"

"Bring her with you," Gavin sneered. "She's been spending too much time with Anderson."

"The hell's going on?"

Gavin's face struggled through the ugliest part of the healing stage, his bruises fading from black and blue to sickly yellow. Beyond him sat Lansing's holding cells; the first strangely empty, the second holding only two occupants: the blond android Irene, and Lieutenant Dierden. Irene's wide eyes met Tina's, her LED pulsing brilliant red. Shirt rumpled, blue blood leaking from her middle.

_Oh._

Chris averted his gaze when Tina looked at him. Gavin raised his brow in challenge, lip curling into a cruel imitation of a smile. "You know what's good for you, Tina. Back off."

The holding cell stood open beyond him. Dierden grabbed Irene by the arm, eliciting a quick, shrill cry. Gavin's grin widened. Tina pulled in huge lungfuls of air, chest heaving. Her gun hung heavy at her hip. Chris reached for her.

Close quarters. She moved, ducked under Gavin's too slow arms and flung herself into Dierden, elbow in his neck. Arms around her chest, yanking her back; Irene clasped her hands together and launched her double-fist into Gavin's face, freeing Tina. Dierden recovered and grabbed Irene's hair, hurled her into the wall. Tina wrapped her hands around Dierden's upper arm and hauled him away from the android. He hit the ground skull first, the _crack_ echoing down the hallway.

Dierden bounced, the thud of his still body etching itself into a hundred future nightmares. Tina exchanged a slow glance with Gavin, a shared 'oh, shit' fueled by their former camaraderie. Tina held her hand out to Irene as Gavin knelt by the Lieutenant.

"The fuck did you do?" followed her down the hallway as they ran. Tina shoulder-checked the exit and _jesus-fuck wrong shoulder_ and Irene caught her when she slid in the poorly-plowed lot and they made it to her car and Tina yelled a string of curses and she pulled a reverse one-eighty, hit a handdicapped parking sign, and floored it to the streets.

"Where are we going?"

"Fuck fuck I don't know goddamn fucking shoulder _fuck!_ " Tina forced herself to breathe slower, deeper, work with the pain. "Okay, fuck, uh -- Anderson. I stored his motel address in my phone." _fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck BREATH_

Irene took the phone from her and did that no-skin thing on the car's GPS. At least the satellites were working. That was something, right? Of course they were going in the complete opposite direction. Tina kept the car in manual mode, took a wide detour -- she couldn't exactly drive past the station.

They made it half-way to Anderson's motel when the power just flat out shut off. Tina fiddled with the ignition before realizing what had happened.

The satellites were still working, after all.

"We have to walk," she told Irene. Shit. What did she have on her? Wallet, keys, phone, gun -- had to leave the phone behind. She tossed it into the car.

"Why? What's wrong with it?"

"Emergency override." Tina popped open the trunk -- nothing but old crap she should have cleaned out ages ago. "You have GPS, right?"

"Yes," Irene said, her voice sounding a little like a radio barely in range. "I don't understand, what override?"

"Car chases put a lot of people in danger. We can remotely override a criminal's car if we need to." Which made her a criminal. "Uniforms will be here soon, we need to go."

Irene led the way, wide-eyed. Tina glanced back; she'd left the medicated cream behind. And her career, legal freedom, clean record -- she couldn't get Gavin's smirk out of her head. What the hell kind of cop went after a defenseless, innocent, trapped civilian?

The same kind that gut-punched a guy for refusing to bring him coffee.

The same kind that thought that shit was funny.

* * *

_Rumbling, the tinkle-crash of glass, whimpering, hot breath on his face--_

Hank shot up, tangled in the sheets, reaching for Cole -- as if that would make a difference, as if his arm across the boy's body would stop a motherfucking _truck_ \-- but he wasn't in the car. Sumo pawed at the bed, whining. Hank grabbed him, shoved his face into Sumo's furry neck. The dog leaned into him, letting out a strained huff.

"Gotta go out, buddy?" Another huff. "Okay, give Dad a minute."

He dry-swallowed a trio of aspirin to drown out the ever-present pounding in his skull before yanking on yesterday's jeans. Shoved his sneakers on without touching the laces and shuffled outside, belatedly realizing he hadn't actually clipped Sumo's leash to his collar. Fortunately it was fuck-o-clock in the morning and Sumo was quiet. Whoever took up the other fourteen rooms in the motel slept on.

Sumo did that weird dog stare while he did his business. Hank hadn't grabbed a plastic bag. He swore and muttered while he meandered back into the room -- had to buy special bags now, used to get plastic bags for free, you weren't going to save the environment by charging people fifteen cents for a shopping bag -- and lumbered back outside to find some kid peering at Sumo.

"You're supposed to watch your dog!"

The kid pouted at him, arms akimbo, skinny black wrists sticking out of his coat. He was about the age Cole should have been.

"Forgot something," Hank grumbled, waving the plastic bag. "It's too early for grown-ups."

The pout transformed into a wide smile. "Mom says the same thing. She told me to go back to bed, but I saw your dog, and then you left him alone, so I came out to keep him company but then you came back!"

A riveting story. Hank managed the barest quirk of a smile. "Well, your mom's right. Besides, you shouldn't be outside by yourself right now. It's not safe."

"I know," the boy said quietly, and some part of Hank reminded him what an asshole he was. Scaring kids.

"Sumo, he's, ah, pretty friendly. Likes kids. You can pet him if you want. Just move slow."

The kid beamed, fear forgotten, and inched towards Sumo, hand out. Sumo tilted his head and waited, tongue dropping out when the boy gave him the gentlest of pats. Hank resumed his dog-owner duty, triple checking that there wasn't a speck of brown in the snow -- there was a child here, they liked to touch things they were supposed to.

"How long are you staying?"

Hank scowled; fortunately the kid only had eyes for Sumo. "Not sure yet. We'll see what happens." He hadn't planned on much, besides heading down to the liquor store to restock. The department was still paying for the room. Heading back to Detroit might be an option, but he wasn't keen on just showing up -- Connor would vouch for him, but that didn't mean the deviants would want a human cop hanging around. Besides, he and Sumo needed civilization. Heat, electricity, grocery stores.

"Brandon!"

The kid jumped and turned quick. The black woman in the doorway, presumably his mother, gave Hank a quick once over. He stood slowly, beckoning Sumo over.

"Are you bothering this man and his dog? I'm so sorry, he knows better--"

"Mo-om--"

"It's fine," Hank said at the same time, already heading back towards his room. "Kids, right?"

She smiled and rolled her eyes. _Right._ "Get inside honey, it's too early, too cold, and too... early."

"You said early twice!" Brandon hurried over, slipping on the walkway. Hank reached for him instinctively, despite being too far to catch the kid. He dropped the bag and moved over to offer his hand; Mom hissed "Don't!" while Brandon stared at his palm, blue blood dripping onto the ground.

Hank stopped. Mom stopped. Brandon looked at Hank with wide, terrified eyes -- "It's okay," he said quickly. "I have a friend like you. Taller--" he glanced up, as if Connor were there "--but you know." An android. "I'm not going to hurt you, kid."

He backed up as Mom crouched to examine the wound. Took a look around -- nothing else moved. No doors quickly shut, no curtains dropped. No cars going by.

"Is your friend... here?" Mom asked, pushing Brandon's hand close to his chest to keep the blood from dripping further.

"Nah," Hank said. "Back in Detroit. Working with those guys to do whatever it is they're doing now."

Mom let out a breath. "We're from Detroit, too. The police were going door to door -- I lied and said he ran away, but I don't think they believed me." She stood, pulling Brandon close. "We stopped here for the night, and then they-- well, they won, I guess. Sort of." She absently pet Brandon's hair. "I figured with the evacuees we'd blend in. Then..." She shrugged helplessly.

"Then all this crap," Hank said. He grabbed up the bag. "You have somewhere else to go?"

She shook her head. "All my family is local, but they don't... understand." She pulled her free arm around herself -- she was only wearing a coat over her pajamas.

"Hank Anderson," he said, extending his hand. "Listen, you seem to be doing all right, but if you need anything, let me know."

She took his hand with a smile. "Marissa Stillman. And I will keep that in mind, Mr. Anderson."

Marissa and Brandon returned to their room while Hank trudged to the dumpster to get rid of Sumo's business. Then back inside, Sumo at his heel, and shed his outerwear before collapsing back into bed.

Hank had barely managed to fall asleep when three rapid knocks brought him back. He swore into his pillow before dragging himself upright. Maybe Marissa and her boy needed help already. Someone must have seen. Revolver in the top drawer. He double-checked the cylinder was loaded before stumbling to the door. Fucking shoes. Yanked the door open--

Tina Chen stood in front of him, shivering in her Crimson Sharks hoodie. Irene stood next to her, blonde hair arranged to hide her yellow LED -- not that it did much good in the low light.

He beckoned them inside and shut the door before asking. Sumo nosed the two of them in turn. "Gavin and Dierden were going to..." Tina trailed off, glancing at Irene.

"Tina rescued me," Irene said, "and we ran."

"They shut my car off halfway here." Tina ran her hands up and down her arms. "We have to go, Lieutenant. I might have... I think I killed Dierden."

"Shit," Hank muttered. "Shit. Okay. Let me grab my shit." Hadn't really unpacked, just pulled out clothes as he needed them. He awkwardly shoved said clothes back in while Tina went to the window, peering out through a gap in the curtain. Irene stood by the door, arms clasped in front of her. "You're going to need a hat," Hank said, mostly to himself. Had he grabbed one on his way out? He didn't really wear them, he just had a couple of caps as memorabilia.

"She can wear my hoodie," Tina offered.

"No," Hank and Irene said at the same time. Irene continued, "It's too cold for you."

"I'll be fine."

"Nah, I need to charge the car before we go. We'll grab her something there." And a burner. He retrieved the memory chip from his phone before shutting it down and tossing it on the desk next to the room's keycard. "Irene -- you got like a separate network or something, or are you as in the dark as the rest of us?"

She shrugged, grasping both elbows. "We're as reliant on the network as you are. Moreso, maybe."

Hank scowled at nothing. "Guess we're showing up unannounced. Hope they're not pissed at a couple of humans crashing the party." He looked up. "Or were you planning on heading somewhere else?"

"Detroit's the best option," Irene said. "Possibly my only option."

No _possibly_ about it. He's heard grumblings about other android groups in other cities, but why bother taking the risk? "All right, if one of you can grab my other -- shit, Marissa." He pawed through his suitcase -- sticky notes, pen. _Something came up. Call my friend if you need help. His name is Connor._ Connor's weird-ass phone number.

He hauled one suitcase while Irene grabbed the other and Tina led Sumo; stuck the note to Marissa's door before slipping into the driver's seat and pulling away.

"The National Guard gonna give us trouble?"

"No," Tina said. Irene sat in the back with Sumo, slouching to keep herself out of sight as much as possible. "And yes. They've set up check-points."

Great. He pulled into the charging station down the street and left Tina in charge of the meter. The shop had some touristy stuff out -- he grabbed a Detroit Gears hat, couldn't decide if it was appropriate or not. Grabbed one of those prepaid phones, debated how much time he needed to add to it -- hell, could Connor hack it or something? That was a little darker gray than he was comfortable with but in an emergency -- he'd ask.

The cashier, a shrunken husk of a man, watched blandly as Hank made his way over. Only bothered standing when Hank pulled out cash. Hank looked to the side to do some quick math -- they were selling these little half-sized books. Mini origami. Hank flipped it, made a face at the price -- really? Fifteen bucks for some instructions and colored paper? -- but slid it across the counter anyhow.

Connor was always fiddling with shit. His quarter, his cuffs, loose threads in the car seat. Maybe something artistic would -- what, help? Keep him occupied? Whatever. Hank dropped enough cash to pay for his shit and charge the car, then left without either he or the cashier saying so much as 'hello'.

Tina already had the meter going when Hank opened the back door and handed Irene the hat. She smiled and placed the cap over her hair, LED safely hidden.

"Tina," he said, "do you have any idea where these checkpoints are?"

She shook her head. "They've kept everything quiet -- I know they're on the main roads, but I can't tell you exactly where."

Hank swore under his breath. He could keep to side streets until they reached the highway -- but there was no way the National Guard wouldn't be watching the on-ramps. Irene could hide in the trunk, but if they searched the car they'd be fucked. If they were asked for ID they were fucked.

Could always tell the truth. A version of it, anyway.

_Fuck it._

"Guess we're bullshitting our way through," he announced.

"Lieutenant," Tina started.

"Got a better plan?"

Both women exchanged glances -- and hell, he'd recognize that _I can't believe this idiot man_ look anywhere. Saw it on his ex all the damn time. Was _that_ programmed in?

"No," Tina finally said, despite her obvious irritation. "We need to get out of here ASAP."

The charge topped off at ninety-percent. Either Hank's math was bad or the guy inside had ripped them off. Didn't really have time to argue about it, so they took off anyway.

Tina fiddled with the radio, but nothing came in. He'd upgraded to digital years ago, but-- "Hey, Irene? You guys don't receive radio signals, do you? The old-fashioned kind?"

"No. I doubt Elijah believed it was necessary." She paused. "I wouldn't be certain he considered it at all."

Damn. _Nice try, Anderson._

They sat in relative silence, Sumo huffing at whatever little noise caught his attention. Irene kept a hand on him, gently redirecting his snout when he went to rest his head on her. Not everyone wanted a drool factory's output all over their clothes.

Hank glanced in the rear-view, saw no one, and stopped in the middle of the street, glaring at his GPS. They'd exhausted all other routes -- there was only one way to the highway. "Get ready, ladies."

Tina leaned forward as he continued, otherwise still as a statue. Hank turned onto the main road leading to the on-ramp. Armored trucks and traffic cones blocked the way up ahead, but he didn't spot anyone manning the check-point.

"That's weird," Tina muttered. Hank tightened his grip on the steering wheel as they inched closer, waiting for shouting or waving or any sign of life at all. Irene gasped an _"oh no"_ , seeing something before his human eyesight could.

He had a guess.

"Is that an arm?" Tina asked, whisper quiet, already unclipping her seatbelt. Hank rolled to a stop. And yeah, sure enough, that was an arm hanging over a cement barrier. Blood dripping into the snow.

"Stay with Sumo," he ordered Irene. Civilians did better when they thought they were protecting someone else. Tina waited until he had pulled his service pistol from the glove compartment before exiting the car, unholstering her own firearm.

They approached at the ready, aim low. More blood patches, no bodies. Not until they reached the barriers and could see beyond the trucks.

"Fuck," Tina muttered, running to the nearest body, looking for a pulse. Hank did the same with another, not expecting much and finding just that. Two more bodies for each of them. Nothing. "They're still warm," Tina said, the quiver in her voice slowly steadying. "Do you think it was the Activists?"

Hank nodded. Plenty of pockmarks, no guns. "We need to go. Right now."

They quietly re-entered Hank's car. He leaned out the window to ensure he wasn't running over evidence before sitting back and gunning it up the on-ramp. City services had taken care of the highway, at least. The road was relatively clear of snow and ice.

"Irene, you getting a signal yet?"

"No."

"Okay. If you do, get ahold of Chloe or Markus or anybody, all right? Tell them we're coming. Tell them what we saw. Maybe we can warn 'em in time."

She nodded, her LED noticeably pulsing yellow even under the hat. He got it; hell, if he had an LED, right now it would be bright fucking red.

* * *

Markus sat himself in the armchair, relieved when North perched on the arm next to him. She kept her arms crossed, not quite looking at him -- or anyone else -- but her desire for closeness made him feel slightly less useless. She didn't want to talk, but she still wanted _him_.

Connor stood by the window, a spot he seemed to appreciate, gaze flicking over the rest of them when it wasn't settled on the scene outside. Simon sat in the corner of the still-blue couch, fingers tapping his knee to some beat in his head.

Josh and Chloe entered the office at the same time, Avery close behind. Both Connor and Simon smiled at the green-haired android, Connor especially so when Avery made his way over. "I'm so glad you're -- Amber told me -- I mean, you know, you were there -- obviously! -- I wish I'd been able to help--"

"Thank you," Connor cut in, rescuing Avery from his babbling. "I'm glad to be back." He tilted his head towards the center of the room. "You had something to report?"

"Yes! Yes I do. I-- yes." Avery moved to stand by the holomap, adjusting himself several times before holding still. "Yes. So. The um. The bomb." He clasped his hands in front of him, then behind him. "I needed to look over some of the dead androids that had it installed, so it took some time to figure out -- they were, you know, pieces -- but. It's not technically a bomb."

Markus sat forward. "How so?"

Avery adjusted his fingers. "It releases a series of nanobots." His tone shifted to something slightly more mechanical -- he had memorized this. "They pulse through all of an android's thirium tubing, routing back to the device. Once the process is complete, the device releases a signal to the bots to superheat the thirium and the android, uh." He tapped his fingers together. "You know."

Josh interrupted the dead silence, clarifying: "The device turns the android themselves into a living bomb. The bots are basically heating coils with rudimentary AI--"

Simon stood abruptly. "They're still in me. I'm still--"

Josh followed him, grabbing his arm. "We're working on a way to filter them out right now, but without the device it doesn't matter, okay? They won't activate on their own."

Simon stared hard before running a hand through his hair. "You're sure?" Josh nodded. "Okay. Okay." They both sat, Josh with his arm around Simon. Markus wanted to reach out, but Josh had it covered for the moment.

"We're also working on a way to remotely stop the process," Avery continued quietly. "Without having to stick a blocker in. We only have the one anyway -- not the point." He wrung his hands. "That's -- that's all for now. I'll just, um..."

"Thank you, Avery," Markus said. "Sincerely. Bad news is better than not knowing at all."

Avery smiled at that, before making his way out of the room and shutting the door behind him.

" _Fuck_ this," North announced, sprawling back as best she could without dislodging herself. "This isn't _ignorance_. They're hurting us on purpose."

"CyberLife is," Connor amended.

"And the rest of them are letting it happen," Simon said, glaring at the floor.

Josh met Markus's eye. Markus rubbed a finger under his lip, looked away. He wanted to argue the point -- he _should_ argue it. His core team was disheartened, angry, scared -- but he couldn't think of a damn thing to say. They were all tired.

He was so goddamn _tired_.

"Chloe," he said, "please tell me you have better news."

"I do," she said, smile subdued. "The purchase was accepted. There are forms that need to be filed and whatnot, but the Complex is essentially ours."

Simon perked up at that. "When can we start moving in?"

Her smile widened. "Now."

The others shifted, straightened -- here was something they could act on. "We'll begin immediately," Markus said. "We can worry about renovations once the majority of our people are settled. Josh, we need the repair center relocated first thing."

Josh nodded. "Already have a spot picked out."

"All right." Markus stood. "Let's get started."

* * *

Lonely snowflakes drifted on eddies of wind, gusting across Kara's vision before gentling into a lazy spiral. She and Scott pushed through an unplowed parking lot, stopping for a moment once they reached the overhang to stomp their boots on the relatively clear walkway.

She checked her gun for the... sixth time, a quick memory review told her. She had opted for a thigh holster after Iris's insistence. Kara wasn't sure if there was actually a tactical advantage, or Iris just preferred the aesthetic. Either way it still hung there, ready and waiting.

"Doing all right?" Scott asked.

"I guess," Kara said. "We've just been walking." The rest of the team stood by the road, keeping watch.

"Yeah, most of patrolling is just moving in a pattern. You need to be constantly aware, though. It can be stressful. The idea that a missed detail could mean death for our comrades is too much for some people." He tested the door to the nearest store -- a pharmacy. Locked, but it used an electronic security system he easily bypassed. "I'm not disparaging anyone. We all have a role in Jericho."

Kara followed him into the store -- this was strictly a human business. They were unlikely to find supplies. "What are we doing in here?"

"Checking for forgotten androids." Scott nodded towards the back. "Some humans left without sending their androids to the camps."

"Because they forgot, or they didn't want to?"

Scott shrugged. "Either or. It doesn't really matter to us. Let Markus and the others handle the big questions."

Kara frowned at Scott's back. She liked Markus, but she wasn't ready to hang her survival solely on someone else's shoulders.

She kept watch while Scott cleared the back room -- nothing. They moved on to an electronic parts store, then a bookstore, then a small grocery. Kara let Scott keep watch while she checked the stock room. Too bad about the produce -- there was no telling when the humans would return. What a waste of food. Why didn't they bring it with them?

Something crashed out front, making Kara jump. "Stay right there," Scott ordered. "I'll check it out."

Kara crossed her arms, gripping her elbows. Then she dropped her hand to her gun -- they always needed to be ready. A sign had probably fallen over in the wind, nothing more.

Active guard duty... might not be for her. She had spent the past week doing exactly this -- keeping her head on a swivel, looking out for anything or anyone that might be a threat to Alice or Luther. The anxiety, the uncertainty, the knowledge that if she missed something -- Scott was right. It was too much. She should be back at the warehouses, helping pack everything up for the move.

A small sound pushed through the back door. Kara stalked through the room, slowly turned the deadbolt. She yanked the door open -- a woman jumped back with a shrill, " _Oh!_ " and stared at Kara a moment. She looked familiar -- like one of the police androids, but without the black armor. She wore human clothing and had removed her LED, so chances were she had been around for awhile.

"I'm sorry," they said at the same time, each laughing a little.

"Are you with the guard?" Kara asked.

"Oh, no," the android said. "Actually, I was looking for you, Kara."

Kara scanned her memory -- she hadn't met this android at Rose's, and she definitely hadn't survived Zlatko's house. Well -- no, Kara couldn't assume. Maybe her... _alterations_ were under her clothes. "How -- I'm sorry, I don't remember you. My memory was wiped a little over a week ago. Did we know each other before?"

The android frowned. "Your memory -- no matter. This will likely seem very odd to you, then. There's something with which you are uniquely qualified to help me. To help _all_ of us."

There _was_ something familiar about this android -- something about her expression, the way she leaned forward, _expectant_. "I don't know what you mean," Kara said slowly. She felt like her insides were lighting up, one brief flare at a time, trying to tell her something. "I'll help you if I can, but--"

"Excellent, I'm glad," the android said, smiling wide. "I have proof -- oh, but it's easier to show you." The android offered her hand, skin receding. Kara returned the smile, not quite so wide, hesitantly returning the gesture. When the android grabbed her arm, pulling her outside, Kara realized--

Ralph. This android reminded her of Ralph.

Video flooded her, too fast to parse -- flashes of an android being assembled, an android that looked like _Kara_ , then disassembled, then -- the android released her and Kara reeled, stumbled back. She replayed the video at a speed she could understand.

Confusion threaded through the feed, and... joy? And fear, and-- but this wasn't an android's memory, it couldn't -- then the angle switched and she was looking at the wall, the floor, the camera watching her, the intercom -- then relief, then--

Was this her?

_This was her._

Her serial number, yes, but -- she knew, deep down in her wiring, the way she knew she loved Alice, the way she knew she needed to protect Alice and Luther and Jerry and--

"Where," she started, backing away. "How-- what do you want?"

"Kara?"

"Scott--" She turned to answer. The door slammed shut and Connor -- _blond_ for some reason -- shoved something into her neck. Her vision fizzled out, incomprehensible error messages cascading down her HUD--

_What's going to happen to me now?_

Kara came and went -- falling and rising, clothes rustling, flashes of light, " _Control it!_ "

_You /thought/? What did you think?_

The store, vibrant and bright, a pleasant buzzing in her system as she booted up, the bright eyed little girl staring up at her with unabashed curiosity. All the lovely people, smiling and frowning, colorful and clean -- then _that man_ walked in, a discordant hard stop, a record scratch. The buzzing grew louder, overpowering--

_You've been gone for two weeks,_

He was shaking the girl, screaming -- drawing on the walls again you little cunt, do you think wallpaper is cheap -- it wasn't her, _it wasn't her_ she hadn't done it please Daddy don't--

thirium dripping across her eye, pooling under her head, five little fingers reaching for her--

hand on his shoulder, _you'll be safe there, I promise_ and _dozens of androids like us_ and _they won't find you, the police don't waste time on broken machines_ and painful chagrin and the barest hint of a smile that didn't reach his eyes but that was all right, Lucy would--

" _She needs to walk, Connor."_

_"It-- fine. **Control it.** I'll do the talking._"

The soldier yanked her to the ground and she quickly helped Alice down and they fell in line and _Forward!_ and

_Please Kara, don't..._

and

_Do you hear that?_

and

_I thought... I was alive._


	22. Chapter 22

Connor helped Josh haul up the last of the equipment, stepping away to give the other android room to pack the machine properly. A snake-like port connector poked out, prongs ready to strike. If Josh noticed the no-doubt suspicious look on Connor's face, he didn't say.

Josh followed Connor to the edge of the truck cabin, grabbing the door handle but not yet pulling it down. Connor hopped to the ground, gaze sweeping the area; the entirety of the repair center sat in a series of trucks, either on the way to the Broad Complex or waiting to leave. No forgotten tools, not a drop of spilled thirium: as if they'd never been there at all.

Daniel and the JB300 had been loaded into the first truck - loose wiring tied off, thirium tubes blocked to prevent further leakage. It would take time before either was ready to be booted; hopefully the damage wasn't too severe.

"I've got this weird feeling, that this should have taken longer," Josh said. "It's hard to believe we'll be pretty much moved in before the day's out."

"We're still using the warehouses for storage," Connor reminded him. _Storage._ The morgue would be expanding. No more piles of dead androids at Hart Plaza and beyond. Now they would be piled up here, waiting for harvesting. Like fields of grain.

"I know, I know," Josh said, waving his hand vaguely. Dismissing the conversation. "Connor. How are you holding up?"

Connor didn't look at Josh. Simon hadn't shared anything once they'd rejoined Markus and the others, but he'd felt eyes on him throughout the meeting. He might have been imagining it -- the term _paranoia_ came to mind -- but who could say? Maybe they knew without being told. Maybe his emotional instability was obvious.

"I'm okay," he said, mostly telling the truth.

"Are you?" Josh asked. "You only came out of repair mode last night. It's understandable to still be a little shaken up."

Oh. That. Josh was checking in following yesterday's conversation. "I think so. I can't say I feel good... but I don't feel bad, either." Like some residue had been scraped out from inside his chassis, leaving him empty and raw. His stress remained at or below 20% -- higher than optimal, but appeared to be his new baseline.

"Just okay," Josh repeated, tone light. "All right. Keep an eye on Simon for me? Unless something changes, I won't see either of you until tonight."

"Of course," Connor said with a smile. Josh returned it before pulling the door closed and latching it from inside. He dropped the smile as the truck pulled away, waiting for the way to clear before heading to the guard station.

North had gone ahead to set up their new security station. The Complex already had one in the center building, but they had decided to use that as a secondary location. Connor wanted armed teams by the entrance, and North had decided on building E. That said building obtained the only legal human tenants hadn't affected her decision at all -- at least that was the argument she'd made, vehemently, when Josh confronted her on the matter.

Sadie met him at the door of the guard station, a small frown on her face. Zach and Sienna sat nearby, monitoring communications. "Two of the outer patrol teams haven't checked in."

Connor mimicked her frown, looking up at the flat holomap Josh had rigged for the wall. Most teams had been pulled in to guard the route between the warehouses and the Complex, leaving only five teams moving through the city. Sam, Scott, and Champ's teams had all reported in on time; that left Iris and Rain. Two teams of six, both further out than the rest. Sadie pointed out their last check-in locations; neither team had reported anything out of order. Each scouted out possible supply locations or lost and forgotten androids.

//INCOMING CALL: AC700 SCOTT//

One of the androids that had survived the barricade on Hart Plaza, and highly trusted by North and Markus. Connor excused himself from Sadie and answered.

[ _Connor? We have a problem. We've spotted another RK800 android._ ]

_Shit._

[ _Send me the location,_ ] Connor replied.

Scott complied, continuing, [ _There's more. He... he took Kara._ ]

Connor froze, blinking rapidly. Yes, Kara had gone out with Scott's team -- part of Iris's initiative to convince reservists to join active guard duty. He had carefully avoided outwardly noticing her name on the roster, and North either didn't realize or hadn't cared about their troubled connection.

[ _I see,_ ] he said after a too long moment. [ _Hold position. I'm on my way._ ]

He turned back to Sadie and explained the situation. "I'm going to coordinate with North regarding the missing teams. We'll let you know how to proceed shortly. Please tell Simon where I've gone. And why."

Sadie nodded as he hurried out the door. He sent North a message while he made his way to one of their standby taxis.

>>NORTH>> You're not going alone.

Not this again. And... had North's designation _always_ lacked a model number? He'd never communicated with her in a way that would include it by default. He hadn't realized their model number could be removed at all.

<<RK800|CONNOR<< It's a short ride and I won't be alone for long. What do you want to do about the missing teams?

He climbed into a taxi and provided a location while waiting for her response.

>>NORTH>> It's your call, Connor. I'm handling the Complex.

He frowned at his hands.

<<RK800|CONNOR<< I want to be sure we're on the same page.

>>NORTH>> And I need you to handle it. Just tell me what you want to do. If there's an issue I'll bring it up.

<<RK800|CONNOR<< All right. I'd like to combine Sam and Champ's teams and send them after Iris and Rain.

>>NORTH>> Sound goods. Let Sadie know and check in once you've met up with Scott. Be safe.

He called Sadie with instructions on the ride over. Scott met him at a strip mall; the taxi refused to enter the snow-covered parking lot, forcing Connor to walk through it. He sent North the requested check-in, receiving a thumbs-up emoji in response.

"We spotted them around back," Scott provided as they moved. The rest of his team watched the area, firearms at the ready. "I wasn't sure at first -- he had changed his hair and ditched this." Scott tapped his forehead where his LED had once been. "There was another android with him, too."

They stopped in front of a propped open door. "Can you transfer your memory?"

"Sure, I grabbed everything relevant from the team."

Scott's alarm poured over the transfer, but nothing else came through. A strong emotion he couldn't block, then. Connor took a moment to analyze--

Amanda.

He blinked rapidly, clenching his fists. It might not be her -- the face-model was popular, after all. Five different current-era models came with the option. It needn't be Amanda. It could be anyone. Anyone at all. Anyone who happened to be working with an RK800 unit and had kidnapped one of Connor's former victims.

That first moment of freefall, the snow falling heavier --

_Something in front of you, something concrete._

The dull blue dumpster, the chain link fence, the green of his sweater. The sweater North has picked out for him. Warm brown eyes and ever-so-brief contact and _I knew green would look good on you_ \--

He let out a breath. "They drove off," he said, voice steady. "Cameras in the area?"

"The traffic cameras are all disabled," Scott said with a shake of his head. "It got me wondering -- should we think about launching our own camera drones?"

Connor nodded absently. Even with android labor cheap and plentiful, humans still used overhead drones as security cameras; they only had rudimentary AI. "I'll discuss it with North. No reason we shouldn't."

Scott stood off to the side while Connor analyzed the scene. Boot tracks in the snow led to tire tracks which led to a plowed and salted street, leaving no further trail. No thirium, no bullet casings, nothing relevant he could analyze, add to his rudimentary file on the case -- nothing he couldn't gleam from the team's memories.

Murder was one thing; bodies held clues, told a story. Puzzle pieces with shifting edges that sharpened and focussed with each new piece of evidence. This kidnapping? Gave him nothing. He already knew who and how; where and why were impossible to discern.

He put his hands on his hips. What would they want with _Kara_? If they were after any random deviant, there were easier ways to get ahold of one -- especially if they left Detroit. The media made mention of other deviant groups, although none had attempted to make contact. They were likely as outnumbered as Jericho had been, and didn't have a city devoid of humans to hide in. Easy pickings, if he were to fall back into CyberLife's service.

If she wasn't a random target -- then, again, _why_?

The scene could tell him no more. He checked the network map; Sam and Champ's teams were well on their way to Iris's last known location. No point in asking them to wait for Scott's team. "We should head back to the warehouse," Connor told Scott, going on to explain the situation with the missing teams. "I don't know if the incidents are related, but I'm suspending exploration teams until we know more."

He debated letting North know immediately while they began their return walk; on the one hand, she was right. This was his responsibility. On the other -- would she be angry? Would she make a different decision?

He shoved his hands in his pockets, fingers searching for his missing quarter for a split-second.

<<RK800|CONNOR<< I'm bringing Scott's team back to the warehouses and suspending exploratory patrols until we know more.

>>NORTH>> Got it.

Connor let out a breath. Easy enough. North had meant what she'd said.

Scott's team chatted idly over the network; nothing distracting, just passing the time. Connor dedicated most of his available processing power to analyzing their surroundings -- he didn't notice when they just barely came into range of the warehouse's local network until Scott grabbed his arm.

"Do you hear that?"

[ _\--where / inside / fire--_ ]

Connor and Scott exchanged glances. "Run," was all Connor needed to say; the team followed him without question. He pinged Simon a location request as the network cleared from static to chaos, panicked androids yelling for help or loved ones.

Smoke reached them as Simon contacted him privately. [ _It happened all at once -- some of the buildings are on fire. I think -- I think we're under attack!_ ]

That much was evident when they reached the outer buildings -- flame shot through shattered windows, androids ran into the street. A crash as two androids jumped from a third story window -- one hit the ground with a crunch, clothes lit up. Connor reached him first and quickly beat out the flames, but there was no fixing his shattered legs.

The other android and one of Scott's team carried him together while Connor and the rest moved through the growing throng. Equipment and specialists had moved first -- most of their people were still here.

Simon met them, barely stopping before he barrelled Connor over. "It's spreading too fast -- I didn't hear explosions, I don't know how--"

"It doesn't matter," Connor interrupted. "We need to get everyone out and onto the pavement. Scott, coordinate with Sienna and have the guard evacuate the affected buildings. Send a small team to the Fire Station on Fort. If we're lucky they didn't send the trucks to other cities." He hadn't _heard_ anything about relocating the city's firetrucks, but he hadn't thought to check before, either.

"On it."

"We have to get to the morgue," Simon said as Scott took off. "Josh has our thirium supply, but our biocomponents were stored with the bodies."

They threaded their way through the slightly more ordered crowd, only to find that they were too late: smoke poured from the morgue windows, the fire itself not yet visible. A pale, red-haired android -- an EM400, Jerry -- yelled, "Luther, wait!" as the larger android ran into the building. One of the little YK500 girls stood nearby, her auburn braid remarkably similar to North's.

"What happened?"

Both turned to Simon. "Rupert's still inside. Alice and Fern -- we tried to stop them," Jerry insisted, clutching Luther's jacket, "I told Luther to wait, we need a plan--"

Simon looked around, eyes widening. "No." He nearly outran Connor, glaring when Connor caught his arm.

"A fire is the _last_ place you should be right now," Connor murmured, gaze flickering towards where the not-technically-a-bomb had been. Realization chased confusion across Simon's face. "I'll go in." He thrust his gun into Simon's hand, answering his questioning look with, "gunpowder explodes."

The thick smoke quickly obscured his path, filled his nose and mouth. He deactivated his air pump and ran a scan, finding nothing beyond the gray.

" _Luther!_ "

" _Here!_ " came the return bellow, giving Connor a direction at the very least.

//VISIBILITY LOW//

_Yes, thank you._ Connor dismissed the notification as he strode deeper into the warehouse; orange tinted the gray, the heat slapping bright red warnings on his HUD. He nearly collided with Luther, the other android vaulting over a morgue table.

"I heard them over here!"

Connor followed Luther; all at once the fire morphed from a smoky glow into a stark reality, flames scuttling across dead androids, plastic vapor setting off his forensic analysis. The fire had started towards the back of the building. Easy to run in between patrolling guards and toss in something already lit.

Two little voices argued with a third:

"Just go!"

"No, we can help you!"

They broke into a run, skirting around dead androids and overturned tables. Alice and the little YK500 boy, Fern, attemped to lift a fallen beam off prone androids -- one already dead, skull crushed. The remaining android tried to push them away, but didn't have a good angle to do so.

"Alice!" Luther crouched by the girl. "What are you doing?!"

"We have to save Rupert!"

Connor recognized the android when he lifted his head. "I told them to go--" Rupert's voice devolved into static. Luther tucked his shoulder underneath the beam and grit his teeth as he rose, giving Rupert enough room to crawl out. Connor and Fern helped him along -- thirium spilled from a gash in Rupert's hip, sparks flying.

Rupert switched to the network. [ _I can't stand._ ]

The tinkle-crash of glass, a burst of fire next to them -- _molotovs_. Connor pulled Rupert's arm over his shoulder and wrapped his arm around Rupert's waist, hauling him up as Luther gathered Fern and Alice in his arms, one on each shoulder.

He opened a private channel. [ _Scott, the attackers are behind the morgue. Take whoever's available and deal with them._ ]

[ _On it._ ]

He led the way as the warehouse fell down around them, several more crashes joining the first. Dead androids flared up, followed by a strangely familiar pop. Connor was trying to place the sound when Rupert shouted a crackled warning; debris crashed as the ceiling rained down on them. Connor and Luther dashed forward -- a broken rafter knocked Conner and Rupert to the floor. Luther and the kids disappeared under chunks of roof.

Connor blinked away error messages as his sensors recalibrated from the impact. Rupert slapped Connor in the face, then next to his head -- the fire had reached them. Connor lurched up, bringing Rupert with him as he scrambled away from the flames. They knocked a table over, an empty chassis tumbling to the ground. Connor righted the table and lifted Rupert onto it, the other android pointing at the debris pile.

Alice screamed for Luther and Connor rushed to the fallen roof, peeling away sheet metal that burned away his skin. He found Luther hunched over, his arm pinned by a metal rod attached to a steal beam. Alice cowered beneath his frame, and Fern -- the boy lay on his side, thankfully still moving. A patchwork of skin and hair danced around a charred line that ran from his cheek to the back of his skull, the smallest portion of his processor open to the air.

Flame licked at Luther's arm while he scrabbled at his shoulder -- Connor moved in and helped him remove the limb as his spilled thirium lit up. Luther slumped, fire hungrily reaching for him through his detached arm. Connor collected Fern in his arms as Luther and Alice stumbled forward.

The roof fell in fiery chunks, creating an ever-changing obstacle course; Connor pushed Rupert's table with one arm, Fern held tightly against his body with the other. They pressed ever closer to the entrance, towards one bright white patch in the orange haze --

Debris blocked the way. Connor couldn't see a path around -- Luther caught Connor's eye and shook his head. Connor ran the preconstruction: they could make it if they jumped.

Rupert couldn't stand.

"I'm coming back for you," Connor tried to say, producing only static. He repeated himself over the network.

[ _Don't be stupid._ ]

[ _Hold on,_ ] was all Connor sent back, before executing the leap.

Luther hit the ground first and ran, Connor a half step behind; they stumbled into cool, crisp winter air, smoke clinging to their wake. Connor thrust Fern into Simon's arms and rushed back in.

The adjustment from dark - light - dark forced Connor's optical units to recalibrate, wasting precious seconds. He felt... slow. Smoke in his joints, his components, curled around his wiring. He dismissed the critical override, forcing his limbs to move forward, to run, to jump.

He found Rupert where he'd left him, slapped the android's hand away from his thirium pump. Rupert only stared while Connor hoisted Rupert over his shoulder in a fireman's carry -- appropriately enough -- and took off at a run. He'd already run the calculations, he only needed to force himself to _move_ \--

They tumbled to the ground, so close -- hands under his arms, dragging him into the light -- a thread of consciousness, not his, weaving and pushing --

//GET OUT//

"Connor -- Connor! It's me, it's Simon, I need you to breath, okay? Open your vents -- there, there, get cold air into your system--"

His HUD gradually cleared as his components recalibrated or rebooted. He watched his thirium level drop six percent as his skin regenerated. One warning remained -- level 2 damage -- he brought his fingers to his chin. A scorch mark, slightly larger than a quarter, where Rupert had slapped away the flame.

Connor sat up, blinking rapidly. His sweater sat pooled in his lap. Simon kept a hand behind his shoulder; Fern sat opposite, fingers splayed over the hole in his skull, tears in his eyes. Rupert lay nearby, Jerry at his side, one careful hand pushing Rupert's hair back. Luther stood, slumped but upright. Next to him, the girls clutched each others hands.

They had made it out, scathed but alive.

Simon squeezed his shoulder. "You okay in there?"

"Yes," Connor said simply. He had no choice but to be. He opened a private channel, including Simon on the recipient list. [ _Sadie, Scott, report._ ]

[ _The Fort Street team has run into trouble,_ ] Sadie sent. [ _A group of thirty armed humans are guarding the fire station._ ]

[ _We found the attackers, but they have us outnumbered. We're following -- I think they might be heading to the fire station as well._ ]

_Shit._ [ _Are they in uniform? Anything that would identify their alliance?_ ] Government, CyberLife -- the Anti-Android Activists? _Who?_

[ _No, nothing,_ ] Scott sent back. [ _Some of them have body armor, some don't. Some have pistols, others rifles. It's all over the place._ ]

Connor stood, Simon hovering as if he would fall back over. Puzzle pieces slotted into place. Iris's and Rain's teams going off the network, too far for a quick retrieval. If these humans were observing them -- in person? Via cameras Jericho hadn't yet found? -- they would have known when Connor sent the remaining teams to investigate. Then the attack, when the least amount of security was available.

[ _Scott, join the Fort Street team. Sadie, send everyone we can spare as well, but make sure we have the route covered in case there are other groups. I'll head over myself in a moment. We need those trucks._ ]

Connor pulled his sweater back on as Sadie confirmed. "I'm coming with you," Simon said, something strange in his voice. No heat, no anger -- only the barest hint of intent. The sun's reflection off a knife edge.

"Where are you going?" Fern looked up at them with his one good eye, the other charred and split. "You-- you can't go."

Simon pat the undamaged side of Fern's head. "Stay with Luther and Jerry."

"Why do you have to go," Fern asked the ground. "You always go."

Simon paused, fingers curling. He knelt in front of the boy, tilted his chin up. "So someone else doesn't have to."

Connor and Simon ran along the route to Fort Street station, past the burning buildings threatening to collapse on themselves; the faintest traces of shoe prints appeared here and there, too vague for specific identification. They met up with Scott's group and continued on. Their hastened march echoed off the empty brick and cement buildings; they met with the second group Sadie had sent, led by Zach, shortly before joining the Fort Street team. Acre had hunkered down in an abandoned florist's shop several blocks down from the station.

Acre gave Simon a grim smile. "Not sitting this one out either, huh?" Simon only managed a strained smirk. "Good news: the firetrucks are still in the station. Bad news: the humans brought friends. There are at least fifty of them now."

"That's almost four to one," Scott muttered, looking around at the assembled androids, as if the count would change. "Should we wait for backup?"

"There isn't any," Connor said, peering between gaps in the boarded up windows. "The attack was well organized. They know we're stretched thin with the move."

"The bulk of our biocomponent supply is in the morgue," Simon added. "We need to salvage what we can. What's the plan?"

Connor pulled up the network map and pointed out two key routes. "Scott, lead your team down the west side. I'll take the rest on the east side. Move quietly, hit them hard -- we're outnumbered, but we think faster, move faster, and don't feel pain. Stay in cover, don't get pinned down. Watch each others backs." He paused, tried for levity: "And don't miss."

Acre gave him an appraising look. A handful of them performed small moments of hesitation -- a sharp look his way, a mouth opening and closing, a handful of yellow LEDs -- after which they followed his lead. Half split away with Scott, the rest at Connor's back.

They weaved through alleys and around buildings, keeping out of sight as long as possible. A human called out a warning and Connor dropped behind a forgotten car, sending out the order -- [ _Attack!_ ]

The element of surprise took down a dozen humans before they wised up and took cover, behind or within buildings -- Zach broke down the door of an abandoned gaming store while Simon provided cover fire. Connor's team poured in, Simon and Acre picking spots by the window while Connor led the rest out the side door. They moved forward building by building, shooting down humans every time one of them dared to lean out of safety. Zach took a bullet to the chest, armor dinged -- one of Scott's crew fell, the wound not immediately fatal.

An empty lot on Connor's side separated his team from the fire station, a fifty-foot no-man's-land. The map showed a building; it had likely been bulldozed since the last update. By Connor's best estimate there were about twenty humans left, fortified within the fire station. The rest had made a run for it or littered the street, broken and bleeding. Mostly clean kills, head wounds; a few had helmets and armored vests, forcing Connor's people to use crippling shots. There were no ambulances coming for these people, no emergency surgery -- they didn't deserve his sympathy, but he felt a tinge of what might be regret. He didn't want to torture anyone.

Sunlight glinted off the enemy's firearm whenever one of them took aim -- the only advantage of the dead space between Connor and his goal. He _had_ to get to the station, he was the best suited for combat -- and Zach was ninety-percent bulletproof. The android in question met Connor's eye -- he had likely come to the same conclusion.

"Simon," Connor said. "Zach and I will rush the station while the rest of the team provides cover fire. I'll have Scott's team rush them from the other side -- they can use the building to protect themselves until the last stretch. You need to take point if something goes wrong."

Simon nodded, mouth in a thin line. [ _You're the least repairable of all of us,_ ] he sent privately. [ _Keep that in mind._ ]

Connor nodded back. He wasn't... this wasn't the rooftop. He was okay. He coordinated with Scott as he readied himself, Zach's hand on the door. He counted to three over the network, and they charged.

He couldn't do what he'd done with North -- he didn't have the processing power to calculate a bullet's trajectory for _two_ people. Zach ducked down and protected his head with his arms, running blind. Connor stressed his processing power to its limit, deactivating everything he didn't require; he couldn't avoid each projectile, some were too close together, but he could get away with a graze or a clean shot through non-vital components. The first hit grazed his cheek, the second a near-clean shot that lodged in a vent.

The third and fourth found his left arm, a graze and a through-shot -- and then he vaulted through a smashed window and tackled the human who'd fired the shots. A pistol swung around and he grabbed the wrist holding it, twisted, and shoved them away. Zach joined him and they fought their way through the remaining humans -- boot stomps told him Scott's team had arrived.

One human dropped her gun and ran for it -- Connor let her. More followed -- the rest too injured or too determined to do the same. A man swung around wildly, aiming his rifle every which way. Connor inclined his head towards the retreating humans -- the man squeezed the trigger, and Connor pushed the barrel up before the rifle fired, then put a bullet in the man's head.

Connor swept the room with his eyes -- two trucks sat ready to go, garage doors still rolled up. One of Scott's team sat against the far wall, another android tending to the wound in her leg. A few others were damaged, none critically. His own self-repair had already kicked in, his thirium levels slowly dropping as his system patched the damage.

[ _Simon, we're okay. Bring the rest over._ ] He dug out the bullet caught in his venting as he said, "Scott, Zach, get the trucks running. There must be instructions nearby." A tablet, a QR code to a digital file -- _something_.

The remaining humans were dead, or close to it -- bar one. She'd taken a shot to the leg and had both hands pressed over it. Connor ran a scan -- she wouldn't survive the hour without emergency medical treatment. A handgun sat within arm's reach; he kicked it away before crouching in front of her, his own pistol in hand.

"Who are you?"

"Fuck you," she snarled, recoiling. He ran facial rec -- Madeline Brown, 23, Caucasian. No priors. A student at Detroit University. She had been taught by androids, some of whom looked very much like Josh.

"Madeline," he said again, her eyes going wide, "we're short on time. I need to know who you're working for. Who you represent."

"I _represent_ people who haven't gone _insane_. Real people, not plastic assholes like you."

Connor aborted the memory recall. "The Anti-Android Activists. The group that murdered dozens of humans in Lansing." News stations didn't have a final count yet, with communication channels limited within the city. The dead could easily number in the hundreds.

He stood, taking aim. She shook her head rapidly, pulling herself away with one arm. Her leg bled worse from the effort. "No, you can't -- I don't want to die!"

"You're already dead. This is a mercy." Connor fired.

He turned to find Simon staring at Madeline, then slowly raising his gaze to Connor. A truck started up behind him, startling them both. Scott's head popped out of the driver's seat. "We got it. Ready when you are."

The first fire engine screamed down the street, the second only thirty seconds behind. Simon called ahead for their heavy lifters -- mainly androids from the TR and TW lines, although a few police and construction androids stood amongst the group waiting for them. Connor and Simon kept back while the heavies set up the hoses and connected the nearby hydrant.

"I don't think there's much left," Simon murmured under the roar of the water. Connor shook his head, unable to make himself look at Simon; he had failed. Dealing with the Activists had taken up too much time; he should have been faster. He should have caught them before they set half the compound ablaze.

"Connor."

He turned to find Luther approaching, Alice holding onto his remaining hand. The little YK stared up at him, biting her lip. "Do you know where Kara is? She was with Scott's team, but we can't find her."

That night in the church, when Connor had explored the upper floors -- purposely making himself scarce -- Markus had found him to coordinate their actions on the night of the eleventh. After a conversation Connor now thought of as increasingly stilted, Markus had given him his first piece of advice as a deviant: work to stop relying on his social programming. Yes, even one as comprehensive as Connor's.

_Figuring out how **you** want to react to people is part of figuring out who you are._ Whoever that person ended up being. And he'd made an effort -- drawing from Hank, from Markus, from the remainder of Jericho's leadership -- and he'd made strides, he thought. There was little to compare his progress to -- androids learned faster than humans ever could.

He had protocols for this. Conversation templates and patterns. _There's been an incident._ He could predict their reactions, adjust his scripted response to match her phrasing. It would be quick, easy, a bandage on the hot roiling shame instead of picking at the wound -- but he could do better. And they deserved better.

"Kara is missing," he said quietly, pausing to give the admission a moment to settle. "We were returning to consider our next steps when the base was attacked."

Luther and Alice exchanged glances. "She was taken," Luther said, tone hard. "She wouldn't leave without-- Alice."

"Yes," Connor said simply, dismissing his conversation prompts. He heard Simon shift next to him, felt the ghost of a hand at his elbow.

Alice released Luther's hand and took a half-step forward, stared at Connor's chin. "You're going to find her, right? Kara's going to be okay?"

Connor knelt, making himself small. Less intimidating. She hadn't been able to meet his eye that night at the church, when he'd stumbled his way through an insufficient apology. Even with Kara sitting next to her, a protective arm around her. It didn't matter how _sorry_ Connor was if they were still terrified of him. "I'm going to do everything I can to find her," he promised.

"Even though," Alice said, her voice retreating. Luther's hand on her shoulder emboldened her: "Even though she doesn't like you?"

"That didn't stop me from helping Rupert," he said, ignoring the shame climbing up his wiring. "It won't stop me from helping Kara, either."

She looked him in the eye, looked away, jaw working, then tried again. This time it stuck. "Can I help?"

"Alice," Luther said softly.

"Right now you need to get to safety," Connor said, "but later I want to talk to you and Luther, and anyone else who may have seen anything strange. Perhaps you could put together a list of people I should talk to?"

Alice twisted her mouth. "Like who?"

"Anyone who spends time with Kara -- like Jerry, or the other kids. Anyone who might have seen something strange and not realized it."

The girl nodded slowly. "I can do that. Luther will help right?"

The android in question smiled at the girl. It didn't reach his eyes. "Yes, of course."

"Let's start right now!" Alice took Luther by the hand and pulled him away. Luther glanced back at Connor, eyes narrowed, but said nothing more.

Simon nodded at him as he stood. "You handled that well, giving her something to do. This way she won't focus on missing Kara." He turned in a half-circle as Connor stood, taking in the destruction. "I don't think there's anything else I can do here. I'm going to assist the evacuation."

Connor nodded. "I'll stay and supervise the remaining guard team. It's unlikely the Activists will send another attack so soon, but not impossible. Be safe."

Simon quirked his mouth in a crooked smile. "You too."

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to join me on [Tumblr](https://auguris.tumblr.com/)/[Twitter](https://twitter.com/Auguris).


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